Three Wishes
by olehistorian
Summary: It is Charles Carson's birthday and he wishes everyone would forget it but Mrs. Hughes doesn't. As he blows out the candle on his small cake she offers to make his three birthday wishes come true. What does he wish for and do they come true?
1. Make Three Wishes

He did not like to think of it. He all but ignored the occasion every year. He wanted no big fuss, no marking of the day, and no cake with candles or special dinner in the servant's hall. Charles did not relish the thought of his birthday. Once, he had admonished Mrs. Hughes against sentimentality but that was not quite it. He tried to push the thought of retirement to the back of his mind. The thought of getting older, or not being able to do his job to the fullest, had begun to haunt him. He had once told Mrs. Hughes "I'm young." She raised her eyebrows at him in playful response to his remark. "Well, I'm not old," he conceded. However, with each passing year, he was beginning to feel older. The endless hours standing ramrod straight at dinner service had began to wreak havoc on his back and his shoulders had begun to ache from carrying heavy silver trays and services. His thoughts of dying in harness and haunting Downton ever after were beginning to seem improbable.

Two light knocks at his pantry door indicated who needed his attention. She entered without requiring a response. Finding him focused on some nondescript spot on the wall, she was unsure if he even knew she was there. "Mr. Carson," she started.

"Um," he answered quietly though still not turning to meet her.

"Whatever is the matter? Are you all right? You've been very quiet all day," she offered. He turned to her. She noticed that his face, so ruggedly handsome, the face that she so longed to hold close, appeared haggard and weary.

"Oh, it's nothing Mrs. Hughes. I am a bit tired, that's all. It has been a long day, "he answered. She was unconvinced. She knew him so well. She knew every feature of his face; she had studied him for over twenty years. She knew every nuance of his voice, every infliction, every note. He indicated for her to take her customary seat and she did.

"That's not all," she countered. "It's your birthday and you wish it weren't. Mr. Carson we are all getting on. It's a fact of life."

"I don't have to like it." There was sadness in his eyes. Those hazel eyes that she lost herself in, often at the most inappropriate times - during breakfast, as they would pass in the hall or share a glass of sherry or tea late at night after everyone had gone to bed. It pained her to see him this way. With every passing birthday, he had grown more melancholy. She reached across, took his hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I haven't given you my present yet," she offered.

"Oh, Mrs. Hughes, you needn't have bothered," he protested with a lopsided half grin. She had cheered him somewhat.

_Good_, she thought. He is beginning to come round. "I'll be back in a moment. Sit still," with the hint of authority in her voice that he adored. She retreated to her sitting room and shortly returned with a small cake with one lit candle. "Mrs. Patmore helped. She remembered." Mrs. Hughes placed the small cake on his desk and sat back in her chair.

Mr. Carson looked at the cake and then at Mrs. Hughes lovingly.

She withdrew a small card from her pocket and handed it to him. He pulled the card from the envelope and read it. It held the standard birthday greetings of well wishes for a Happy Birthday and for many more returns of the day.

"Thank you Mrs. Hughes. It means a lot to me that you remembered. "

"But that's not all Mr. Carson," she hinted. "The rest of my gift is yet to come." He was intrigued now. He looked at her quizzically. To what was she referring? He noticed that she had no wrapped gift. Countless thoughts flickered through his mind and many of them were innocent. He imagined having dinner with her at a nice restaurant and dancing afterwards. He imagined walking arm-in-arm to church with her. Holding her hand, not to feel steady but to feel close to her. Then some his thoughts turned impure. He imagined pulling her into his pantry and kissing her passionately, propriety be damned. Or patting her bum as she swayed up the staircase in front of him. Or waking in bed next to her, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder. He could feel his ears tingle. They must be turning a deep shade of red, he thought. His collar felt tight and he ran his index finger under it trying to loosen it. "Are you all right Mr. Carson?" she smirked.

"Ah, yes. Fine, just fine," he answered hoarsely.

"Well blow out your candle then and make three wishes." He did as she instructed. Didn't he always? He could never deny her even after the worst of arguments he always seemed to acquiesce to her. She always seemed to know what was best. The hiring of Molesley, the whole mess with Charlie Grigg, and holding her hand at the seashore. "Did you make your three wishes," she asked with a smile.

"I did," he answered returning her smile. If she had only known what he had wished for she'd blushed a thousand shades of red. They all had to do with her. _Thank goodness you don't tell what you've wished for_, he thought.

"Good. Now the rest of my present to you includes making those three wishes come true to the best of my ability," she offered. "So on which should be begin first?"


	2. Wishes of Birthdays Past and Present

**If you would like to suggest a wish for Charles please PM me. Again, I do not own anything. Thank you all for your reviews, as I may not be able to respond individually. You all are fabulous.**

Charles jaw dropped and his mouth hung open. He felt his heart beat in his ears a bead of sweat crawled across his brow. _Surely, she must notice_. He looked across his desk at her and Elsie smiled sweetly as she removed the candle from the little cake and placed two small plates and two forks on Charles' desk. _Oh, that woman._ _Does she know the effect she has on me? Of course she doesn't you old fool. You haven't the courage to tell her._ His collar suddenly began to constrict against his throat and he felt himself ready to rip it off though his impeccable manners prevented him from doing so.

"Mrs. Hughes would you be uncomfortable if I loosened my tie and collar?" he asked sheepishly. She rolled her eyes at him. Another brick crumbling from the wall that was Charles Carson, Butler.

"Mr. Carson, I've seen you in your pajamas I don't think that I'll be shocked by a loosened tie and collar," Elsie chuckled. He was beginning to relax yet she felt her temperature begin to climb. He'd never loosened his collar before, not even in private. She began to think of what it would be like if he began to shed other garments as well. _Now who is beginning to have birthday _wishes she questioned. He was beginning to shift from Carson, the Butler to Charles, her friend.

"Do you make birthday wishes, Mrs. Hughes?"

"Don't we all Mr. Carson," she quietly replied as she looked at her folded hands that rested in her lap. He had turned the tables on her. This was to be about _his_ birthday wishes not _her_ dreams that would never come true. She felt her heart sink a little every time she thought about the wishes she had made over the years. They were simple really: a kiss goodnight, his defenses falling and not being rebuilt, their retiring together not for companionship but love.

"What did you wish for?" he asked softly as he plated a piece of cake for her. Was he trying to deflect attention from himself while he thought of whether or not to tell her of the wishes he really thought of as he blew out the lone candle that illuminated his cake? Or was he interested in finding out more about the woman he thought he knew so well? His brain was a jumble of chaos. He had come to realize that he thought he loved her. When he learned that she was cancer free, he sang for her. He hadn't sung noticeably aloud since his days on the stage with Grigg. He had sung Christmas carols or hymns in church, but nothing secular, certainly nothing for a woman. Yet he sang for her and he had hardly believed it when he heard his own voice. That was his first inkling that she had a real place in his heart. He had always been fond of her, but almost losing her made him realize how much she really meant to him.

Elsie stopped worrying with her hands and smoothed out the imaginary creases in her dress. She inspected the keys on her chatelaine. This night was not going exactly as she had anticipated but if she gave a little of herself, then perhaps he might open up to her as well. Since that lovely day at the beach, she had begun, brick by brick, breaking down the wall he had constructed around himself. They sat a little closer at church, even if he was unaware of it. Their nightly chats lasted a little longer than they usually had and now they were talking about themselves on a more personal level.

"Well," she began, "when I was a girl I wished for the things that all little girls wish for. A doll. A pony. A new dress."

"And when you were older," he pressed in a rumbling baritone. Oh how he was pushing her now. Why was she not pushing back? She was the one usually in control, but he had the upper hand now. He wondered why? _She always has me on my heels. Aren't you the schemer, Elsie Hughes. What is she up to?_ Then he admonished himself. After all, he was the one asking the leading questions.

Elsie worried her bottom lip. She did not know, or did she, that the reflexive gesture drove him to distraction. What was she to tell him? How much should she tell him? She was so much better at keeping things from him than he from her. _Give him just a little_, she thought. "Oh, I suppose the usual things a young woman dreams of: a handsome man to come along and sweep her off her feet, to romance her, marry her and to make her the mistress of a fine house." Realizing the irony of her statement, she chuckled, as did Charles. "Well, part of that wish came true I suppose. I do live in a fine house. "

"Do you still have birthday wishes?"

_What one earth does he mean? He's never been this personal before._ "I do," she answered matter of factly. _All right lass, it is now or never, you have to push him. "_One birthday wish was that you'd not leave to go with Lady Mary to Haxby. " She could hardly believe she had said it aloud.

"And it came true. When you said you'd miss me, I didn't realize how much you meant it," he offered humbly. His chest puffed up with pride.

"And your birthday wishes, what were they over the years," she posed. _Time to turn the tables_. He was less comfortable talking about himself.

He pushed cake crumbs around on his plate lining them up like army men. "When I was a lad I wanted a horse of my own and a book of Shakespeare. And as I got older well, the standard stuff. Health, happiness, you know. Wishes for the continued health of those I lov….I care about." He almost slipped. Had she heard it? No, she hadn't. He had quickly covered it up. He felt such a coward that he couldn't say those words to her. He looked at her to gauge her expression. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she controlled it. She must not frighten him off.

As they sat for a moment in companionable silence, Charles leaned back in his leather desk chair. It was old but comfortable and perfectly molded to his physique. He laced his fingers together across his stomach. He looked at his housekeeper as she cleared their plates. He and Elsie were so easy with each other. They always had been. Alice Neal had been a girl in his past and left him for the jester that was Charlie Grigg. She had been a girl and something that he had built up in his mind over the years so that he could not separate the real Alice Neal from the one he had invented. However, the truth was that she was a fickle woman, a silly girl and Elsie, well, she was woman and had been since the day she came to Downton as head housemaid. She was strong, forthright, honest, knew her own mind. She was tough but had a kind heart. She was a mother to the younger staff and she respected him, something Alice never had. She had never left him even when he almost left her to go with Lady Mary to Haxby. She was everything Alice was not. He realized that he loved her rough edges, her fiery temper, sharp tongue, perfect imperfections* and her soft tones and smooth curves. Yet he lacked the courage to tell her.

"Well Mr. Carson, it is getting rather late and I believe we should be off to bed. You've not told me your three wishes though. I told you that I'll be your Fairy Godmother, if you will allow me."

Elsie gathered the plates and stood to make her way to the door. Charles made his way to her and put his hand on the doorknob. She was too good to him and he knew it. "Mrs. Hughes, you've made this the best birthday I've had in years. Thank you for the cake and especially for the company. I did make three wishes. You may think my first wish too forward however," he said softly with his head lowered with eyes looking up through thick lack lashes and with a bashful smile.

Elsie put her free hand on his arm and squeezed gently. She looked up at him, her blue eyes dancing. "I sincerely doubt that Mr. Carson. " Her heart was racing. Everyone had gone to bed hours ago and the house was dangerously quiet. His voice was so rich and rumbling and he was standing so very close to her. _ If he only knew what __**I**__ wished for._

"My first wish contains two parts," he began. "For my first wish I might ask that when we are alone, you might call me Charles and I might call you Elsie." She nodded in agreement. There was nothing forward in that. They had known each other for ages. "The next part is the part I worry might be too forward," he all but whispered.

"Go on, Charles," Elsie said trying out the use of his Christian name being sure to bring a special emphasis to the rolling 'r' in his name.

"Elsie, might I give you a kiss of thanks and goodnight?" Her night ended better than she had planned. He had said that she was a schemer all right, but this plan had worked to perfection.

"You may," she demurred though inside she was a bundle of elated nerves.

She stood on her tiptoes to meet Charles half way. She expected him to turn and kiss her cheek; she was prepared for that. Yet, to her surprise, she felt Charles's soft lips on hers. Her heart dropped into her stomach. It was a sweet kiss. The perfect first kiss from a man who had made a realization about the woman before him.

"Good night Elsie," Charles spoke softly as they pulled apart and he opened his pantry door.

"Good night Charles, Happy Birthday. And remember, you have two wishes left. Make the most of them," Elsie called to him as she sashayed out of his office toward the kitchen.

TBC….

Thank you for reading. This chapter was a little angsty, but I needed them to share a little of themselves before we can move on to some of the other wishes. Charles needs to make the contrast between Alice and Elsie.* I owe perfect imperfection to John Legend's All of Me (a perfect theme song for our two). Please let me know what you think?


	3. And leave your hair down, won't you?

**I still do not own them...I'm am just borrowing them.**

"Mrs. Hughes I should like to speak to you about something if you have a moment" Charles pronounced with his usual authority as he dismounted the staircase into the servants corridor.

"Certainly, Mr. Carson," she obliged as she made her way from the kitchen as they stopped for a moment in the hallway. "How may I help you?" she asked kindly.

"Elsie," he whispered fearing that someone might hear but he wanted to use her given name so badly, "I wanted to speak to you about my second wish. It would please me very much if you would accompany me to dinner tonight. The family is dining with friends and Thomas can handle things while we are out. Would you…"

"Why yes, Charles, I would love to," Elsie answered. He was progressing much faster than she anticipated and she was pleased beyond words.

"Right, then. Tonight at seven then. I'll wait for you here." Thrilled with her answer, he turned and walked a few steps away only to turn around quickly and approach her again. He moved close to her and gesturing with his hand toward her hair but not touching, "And leave your hair down, won't you?" Before she could protest, Charles turned again and strode down the hall and up the stairs. Elsie stood slack jawed and weak kneed. She backed up to the wall to steady herself; she felt her legs would fail her. Her stomach tied in knots and she felt flooded with warmth. She brought her hand to her throat and then let it rest on her chest. Charles had exhibited a self-assurance that she had thought impossible before last night.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Elsie sat on the edge of her bed contemplating what they were about to do. _ Dinner. What did it mean? Anything? Everything?_ She felt nervous as a young maid. She had never been nervous when Joe Burns was courting her. She liked Joe well enough and he was kind and decent man. He would have made a good husband and father, she knew that. He had always been a gentleman with her. Never pushed her to do things she had not wanted; theirs had been a proper and chaste courtship. Kissing, yes. A passionate embrace here or there, yes. But nothing more. She knew that Joe was not the man she would spend her life with. She'd made that choice, twice. She married her work when she refused him the first time. The second time, she chose to stay for _him._ _He_ had changed her, though he did not know it and he was not ready for her to tell him. She had spent the better part of her life with the man she loved. They spent their days and most of their nights together. They shared breakfast, luncheon, and supper together. They had raised a "family" together. They had been together in every way but one. Yet now that he seemed ready to move in the direction that she lead, she was nervous. _Am I pushing too hard? Does he really want this as much as I do? Does he love me as much as I love him? _

As she sat at her dressing table, she looked at herself in the mirror and ran a hand across her cheek and through her hair. _Old girl, you need to look your best tonight_. She reached to retrieve her blusher and applied it to her cheekbones creating a soft rosy hue; not too much, just enough to add a little color. She had been blessed with high cheekbones inherited from her mother. _Thank you, mum._ She applied loose powder to set the blush and then ran a finger around her pot of lip color. As she applied it, she wondered if he would kiss her tonight. If her lipstickcolor might somehow end up on smudged on his collar. If one of the laundry maids might find it and question, whose it was. She flushed with embarrassment burying her head in her head in her hands and smiling. _Heavens to Betsy, lass who are you? You are a grown woman acting like a lovesick schoolgirl pining after some young lad._ How many times had she warned her girls about the very thoughts she was having about Charles?

She had chosen a new dress that she recently purchased in Ripon on her half day. She had seen it hanging in Mrs. Brown's shop window. It was deep, rich midnight blue with chiffon under sleeves and under dress. The long sleeves billowed dark chiffon with a rich flower embroidered pattern accented with exquisite beadwork. The dress had a drop waist, something Elsie wondered if it were too modern for her, a housekeeper nearing sixty. The waist had a silk band with matching embroidered flower and beadwork. She knew buying the dresswould be an extravagance. Yet, she had been careful with her money, frugal even. She was a Scots Calvinist after all. She knew the value of hard work and the monetary reward that came with it. She had repurposed hats and coats year after year. She treated herself to a new handbag sometimes, but she also deserved a new dress and she justified her purchase telling herself that she would wear this beautiful gown to the Servant's Ball.

Elsie put the finishing touches on her hair as she combed through the soft curls. She parted it from left to right and it hung in cascading waves around her face. She had not worn her hair down since she was a girl – a young girl. She was slightly embarrassed; all of the young women of the house had bobbed their hair and hers fell past her just past her shoulders. She wondered why he had asked her to do it. She imagined his strong hands running through her hair and perhaps combing out for her as she prepared to braid it before they slipped into bed. Perhaps even washing it for her, gently massaging her scalp with his nimble fingers as he worked the shampoo into a lather. _How on earth are you going to make it through this night, Elsie? You've worked yourself up into a lather_, she chuckled. She took one last look. She fought the urge to pin her hair up. She felt exposed somehow with it down. With it pinned, she was Mrs. Hughes, Housekeeper, a persona with which she was comfortable. With it down, she was Elsie, a woman about to have dinner with the man she loved. Dinner out with him, just him. Yet, she left it down because she promised him and it was part of his wish. _ All right, lass, this is it. No turning back now. _

ooooooooooooooooooo

Charles stood before his small mirror and ran a hand across his face making sure that his face was smoothly shaved. _Wouldn't want to scruff her cheek_. Scruff her cheek? What was he thinking? How presumptuous he was. He had simply invited her to dinner, hadn't he? Yet, he had thought all day about their kiss the night before and how he would like to kiss her again. Perhaps on the walk to the village or on the walk home or before they parted ways before she made her way to the women's corridor. _Get yourself under control Charles or you'll embarrass yourself and her. _

He splashed on a bit of cologne – not too much, just the right amount and then took a bit of pomade and rubbed his hands together before running them through his salt and pepper locks. He had decided not to slick his hair down as he did during the day while he was in service. Tonight he was Charles, not Carson. So he only tamed his coarse and curly locks, combing the pomade through lightly. The he retrieved his shirt from the wardrobe. Elsie had once remarked that she fancied the blue shirt he had worn to church a few Sundays ago. He threaded a pair of silver cuff links that she had given him one Christmas through his cuffs. He had chosen a navy blue tie with small gray polka dots that complemented the blue shirt that he had chosen. He paired his shirt and tie with a navy blue suit. _You need to look smart tonight, lad. She deserves the best you have_. He looked to his hands, making sure that his nails were clipped and clean –that no silver polish remained on his hands or under his nails. He wanted to look his best for her.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Charles waited anxiously at the end of the staircase. He fretted with his cuff links, straightened his tie for the tenth time, and then checked his pocket watch. Five minutes after seven. He was more nervous than he cared to admit. It had been ages since he had asked a woman to dinner. Then he heard her footsteps, the footsteps that he would recognize anywhere. He looked up the stairs in anticipation. As she approached, an involuntary and audible intake of breath sounded from his lungs. He felt slightly faint. A shiver moved down his spine and he felt the urge to go to her and take her in his arms. His palms felt moist; he imagined that this is how a bridegroom must feel on seeing his bride walking down to aisle to meet him. _Let her come to you, old boy. Enjoy the view. _She was as he had never seen her. As he had never imagined her. He remembered Lady Mary descending the grand staircase on her wedding day and he had never seen a more beautiful woman. However, this was different. He felt fatherly devotion for Lady Mary. What he felt for Elsie was far from that. He thought Alice pretty but Elsie astounded him. It was as if scales had fallen from his eyes. She was stunning; he saw her not as just as his housekeeper but as a woman. For the first time in a long time, he felt not like the crabby, old butler but like a man filled with desire. Desire for _her_. She had stitched his wounds and the scar was near invisible. He had always been on her side, now he wanted to be by her side.

When Elsie saw Charles waiting for her in his crisp blue shirt and navy suit, she smiled timidly. She had heard him gasp for air and then she noticed something different about him. Something that she had only seen once or twice before, when he thought that she was not looking. His countenance had changed - his eyes were wide and dark. His tongue darted out as he licked his lips and his face flushed a charming shade of pink. _Oh, Elsie, you needn't have been nervous. You've the upper hand now_. She was proud of herself. She had caused this reaction in him. Occasionally, when she grew impatient, she had thoughts about whether she could still attract a man; attract _him_. She wore the same clothing every day except on Sunday or when going to the village and even then it was simple and he had seen her dresses dozens of times. Though she longed for him, she had wondered how he felt about her. Yet tonight, whatever doubts she had about being attractive to him were gone, she had well and fully seen that he was definitely attracted to her in all the ways that counted.

She made her way to him. _He is so handsome. He always has been._ She worried her bottom lip and then smiled slightly. He returned the gesture with a lopsided grin; the one that sent shivers down _her_ spine. He held his hand out to her and she accepted as she reached the bottom step.

"You look lovely," he said with a lowered voice. He was relieved that he could get the words out at all.

"And you are very handsome."

"You left your hair down."

"You asked me to. I must admit though, I was a little hesitant. I've not worn my hair down in many years," Elsie admitted.

He reached out and let a curl silk through his fingers*. "I never wanted to embarrass you. But I was right to ask you to leave it down, if only for tonight. It's beautiful, Elsie." She blushed furiously and for once, she was the one at a loss for words. "Well, are you ready to go My Lady?" he asked as he offered his arm.

**TBC….**

**Sorry to leave it here, but I think that their dinner needs to be a separate chapter. Thanks to *Tammy 333 for her suggestion about Charles asking Elsie to leave her hair down. We'll see where that leads. Reviews and suggestions for wishes are always welcomed….**


	4. What do I know?

** Still do not own them…**

"We have a reservation, Charles Carson." Charles beamed proudly at the maitre d. He had Elsie at his side and his nerves had calmed. He was excited to bring her to a place of such high quality. He knew of the restaurant from Lady Grantham and John and Anna Bates had given a good report so he felt it a good choice for his and Elsie's first dinner date.

The maître d ran a long, pointed finger down his register and stopped when he found Charles's name. "Ah, here were are," he replied. "Please follow me, we have a very nice table for you and Mrs. Carson."

Elsie smiled. _Mrs. Carson. I suppose we do look like an old married couple, heavens knows we act like one most of the time._ _Mrs. Carson. Mrs. Charles Carson. Mrs. Elspeth Carson._ _It does have a nice ring to it. Why didn't Charles correct him? _She looked up at Charles. She'd never seen him look so pleased. _Surely he couldn't have brought me here to…oh no, he hasn't even told me that he loves me. Just enjoy the night, lass, see where it goes._

_Mrs. Carson. Mr. and Mrs. Charles Carson. That does sound nice. I should correct him, his mistake may make Elsie uncomfortable._ He sneaked a look at her out of the corner of his eye as they made their way to a quiet table in a corner. _She's smiling. I'm not sure she minds._ _If she did she would have corrected him herself. Wouldn't she?_

After they were seated, the waiter inquired as to whether they required a glass of wine. Charles reacted with enthusiasm as he perused the wine list. He found many choices he thought suitable for their night out: Clicquot, Bollinger, Moët, Pol Roger, port wines, and of course, sherry. "Perhaps the Chateau Lafite," he pointed one out to the waiter. He then felt a warm sensation on his hand as Elsie reached across the table tucking her hand into his.

"Charles, perhaps tonight we might try something new? We can afford to live a little," she smiled sweetly. Turning to the waiter, Elsie asked "What do you suggest?"

"Might I suggest a Champagne Cocktail for the lady," the waiter offered, "and for the gentleman, perhaps a Manhattan?" Charles was unfamiliar with the new wave of cocktail culture sweeping both America and Europe but his Lordship and Ladyship had hosted parties and served cocktails though the Dowager disapproved. Yet, if this 'something new' made Elsie happy, he would try it.

"Sometimes it 's good to try new things," Elsie encouraged him.

"Somehow you've managed to make that sound a little risque," Charles sheepishly replied. _She may make things sound risqué, but if she only knew what I am thinking. She looks so lovely tonight._

Charles and Elsie proceeded to order dinner. Charles ordered the roast lamb with mint sauce, mashed potatoes, and stewed oyster plant. Elsie enjoyed the boiled trout with parsley sauce and potatoes anglaise. They made companionable conversation while enjoying their meal. They discussed the house and the staff. Elsie mentioned how she longed to see Anna and John with a wee bairn. She admitted that she hoped to be a surrogate grandmother to the child. She even hinted should the blessed event ever happen, she might retire to a cottage on the estate to help tend the baby while Anna worked. _I wished you had children and grandchildren_, Charles thought. _You would have made a wonderful mother. Did I deny you that chance? Oh, Elsie, I'm sorry if I did._

Charles talked of his fascination with wine and how the Old Earl tutored him in the finer points of wine selection. He talked some of the Dowager and of the girls when they were young. Elsie stroked his ego when she asked about cricket and how he became so proficient a player. As he excitedly gestured and talked of the finer points of the game, Elsie barely listened. She smiled politely and looked at him adoringly, but her mind was otherwise occupied. She pictured him in his cricket whites. How nice it was to see him out of a coat and tie. A sweater, shirt with sleeves rolled up, and those white pants that fitted him so very well. How handsome he looked and how strong and virile he was out on the field of play. She was sure that the virility that he displayed on the field would translate into other, more private endeavors. She imagined congratulating him on a winning game. Kissing him madly and then they would retire so that she could congratulate him properly. Elsie felt a warm flush fall over her. _And at your age, Elsie Hughes._ She reached for her cocktail and sipped it gingerly.

oooooooooooooooo

After another round of cocktails - Charles quite enjoyed the waiter's suggestion and Elsie had been right to suggest they try something new - they ordered desert. They waiter recommended a bread pudding with whisky sauce and they were eager to try it. The waiter brought only one piece and Charles began to protest that he meant for the young man to bring two pieces, one for each of them. Elsie, sensing the young man's embarrassment, placed a calming hand on Charles arm. Charles ire subsided and Elsie assured him that it was perfectly all right that they share the pudding if they each used their own fork. This seemed to put Charles at ease and they slowly began to work at the pudding from opposite ends, savoring each and every bite.

"I hope that the maitre d did not embarrass you when he called you Mrs. Carson," Charles softly offered. The candle light caught the silver strands in her hair and only served to enhance her beauty in his eyes.

"No," she smiled. "It was an honest mistake. Two people our age having dinner out at a place like this; it would seem natural to assume that we are married." _Did it embarrass you, Charles? I would be proud to be your wife. I have longed for it for more years than I can count. Perhaps we would be married if it had not been for Alice and your bloody sense of duty to the house._ "You know, Mrs. Patmore has told me that some of the younger staff think that we are already secretly married and have been for decades."

Charles choked on the mouthful of pudding he was enjoying. "What?!" he spluttered. "Who said such a thing? I will most certainly get to the bottom of this, straightaway," he barked incredulously. Elsie chuckled. Charles felt almost angry now. He glared at her, "You find this type of scurrilous gossip humorous?" He clenched his fist on the table.

"Charles, it is just idle chatter. They've all always talked about the Butler and the Housekeeper. You know that the Servant's Hall is a place for matchmaking," said soothingly. She saw his fist unclench and smile tug at the corners of his mouth. She was right and he knew he was being ridiculous as they settled back into gentle conversation.

"Speaking of the young people, back in our day," Charles began.

"Are you saying we no longer have a 'day'? Elsie teased. _I would love to show you that every age has a 'day.' _

"Well, I'm saying that we did things differently, then. Young people today have no values, no honor. When we were in London for the season, you saw what the young people were getting up to these days. We would have never been so bold or scandalous," Charles continued as popped the last bit of pudding in his mouth. "They go to nightclub and jump about to music. Young ladies smoke and go about half dressed and well…." he trailed off.

Elsie smirked she was amused at her dear butler. No one could ever accuse him of being a modernist. "Well, if I recall," she begin as she ran her forefinger around the rim of the martini glass that held the last drops of her champagne cocktail, " I've seen some of the photographs and paintings of the Dowager, in her day as you put it, and she wore dresses that were quite, shall we say, provocative. The old bat may have a collar up to her neck now, but in her youth, she wore the fashion of the day – bustles and her necklines were a bit low." She had bested him. His Blessed Dowager was young once and like all young women, she enjoyed the attention of young men. Elsie heard him grunt his disapproval of her referring to the Dowager as the "Old Bat." He called for the waiter to bring him another drink. _My goodness, Charles, for someone who resists change, this one seems to be an agreeable one. _

"I must say, your dress is a nice change, quite fetching," he said as he took a hearty sip of his drink. His ears tinged red and Elsie wondered if it was because of the alcohol he had consumed or the compliment that he paid her. He had complimented her over the years but always in a friendly way. Nothing more than a 'You look nice' or 'You look very well today Mrs. Hughes.' Certainly nothing as forward as "fetching."

"Charles Carson, I believe that you're drunk. How many of those, em, what do you call them? Manhattans? Have you had?," she happily inquired. She'd never seen him so relaxed even during their times together late at night when the others had retreated to their quarters and they enjoyed their wee drop of sherry. _I rather like this side of you Charles. You aren't a stranger to romance after all. A bit out practice? Maybe. But you're doing just fine my lovely man._

_I'm not drunk, Elsie, just intoxicated by you. Good god, if I said that to her I would sound drunk._ Charles laughed to himself. "A bit tipsy maybe, but not drunk. You have had a couple yourself," he challenged playfully.

"We Hughes women are known for being able to hold our alcohol rather well," she laughed. She leaned in across the table as if telling a confidence, "If you promise not to tell anyone, sometimes after a row with Beryl or you even, I have a wee drop of that whisky that I keep locked in my desk." Charles held his forefinger to his lips in a childlike manner signaling his promise to keep her secret.

oooooooooooooooooo

"Did you find no one else you wished to marry after Alice," Elsie inquired. She was entering dangerous ground with the mention of the woman's name. She hated to think that he had been so taken with, so in love with another woman. _That was a lifetime away. She's gone now. A ghost cannot compete with a living, breathing woman. Am I pushing too hard? Oh, Charles._

_How do I answer her?_ Charles's mind raced. After Alice, he had married his job and Downton Abbey was his mistress. Somewhere Elsie fit in. A colleague? Yes. His best friend? Yes. She was something more, but what was it? She had been almost a wife to him in many ways. He took a sip of his drink. "Well, I've been so consumed with my work, but that is not to say that there hasn't been someone that I've fancied. But the timing never seemed right to properly court or think about marriage." _ Until now._

_Did he just say what I thought he said? He's thought about it. About us? _Elsie's mind raced with confusing thoughts. She could usually read him, but his confession confused her. He had her on her heels, she had lost her footing. She barely heard his question, "And you?"

"As you already know, Joe wasn't the right man for me. Oh he was kind, he is kind, but not the right man to spend my life with,"

"Is there a right man for you?" _I could be, if you would have me._

"Perhaps, I don't know." _I do know. But do you?_

Charles took his napkin from his lap, folded it, and carefully placed it on his chair. He moved toward Elsie and extended his hand. "Would you care to dance," he asked in a deep and husky baritone.

"I may be bit out of practice. I only dance once a year and that's a waltz with Lord Grantham," Elsie giggled.

"It sounds like a waltz to me. I think that we are both safe," Charles whispered as he helped her from her seat and lead her to the dance floor.

Charles eased his right hand to Elsie's back and took her right hand into his left. He had never been happier. This was the night that he would tell her how he felt about her. He had thought about just when he would tell her - as they danced and he held her close. As his hand took its place along her back he felt something different. He didn't know much about women's under things, but he knew what a corset felt like and Elsie was not wearing one. _What is this? The woman is full of surprises. She'll be the death of me yet._ He felt only a small band running across her back and then he realized that the only thing between his hand and her flesh was a silky material. Charles shuddered. He had never been so close to her.

As they danced, Charles leaned in to rest his head onto hers. He nuzzled into her locks and breathed in the intoxicating fragrance that was Elsie - a blend of coconut oil shampoo and lavender soap. He imagined her in the bath. Her hair down, like now, some of it in ringlets where the water rose up to meet it. A book in her hand , reading as she relaxed, soaking the day's worries away. Perhaps it had been a book he had recently read or one he recommended to her. He envisioned a leg draped over the side of the bathtub and a drop of water dangling from her toe, gravity desperately trying to pull it to the floor below. He imagined what would come about if he happened upon her in this state. Perhaps, she would beckon to him ask him to join her, but he would refuse. Instead, he would take the book from her hands and place it on the nearby table while he retrieved the coconut oil shampoo. He would lather it into her hair and gently wash it for her. Massaging her scalp and her aching neck muscles. Then as he rinsed the suds, he would watch the water as it cascaded down her flesh over her shoulders and bosom. Then he would lather a cloth with lavender soap and gently wash her back making soothing circles and then her shoulders and finally her arms. Next, he'd move to her feet and gently massage them. The years of climbing the stairs at Downton had certainly caused her feet to ache. Then he would take each leg and gently wash from her ankle to her knee to her thigh. He would look at her, her eyes closed enjoying the pampering that she never got and only he could give. He would soap the cloth again and lightly caress across her collarbones, her chest, and down to her breasts. Oh how he had envisioned that sight over the years, and to think that one could have taken her away from him. Then as he moved lower,

"Charles," Elsie interrupted his daydreaming.

"Mmmm," he answered.

"The music has stopped," she said softly yet they were still moving, simply swaying to their own tune. Their embrace would not be broken. Not now, not yet.

"Elsie, you know that I do," Charles murmured.

"What… do I know, Charles?" she asked hoping that she knew what was coming. _I have waited twenty years for this moment. Please say that you love me. We cannot have come this far for it to be anything less than "I love you." It cannot be any less than those three words. Please._

"I have always cared for you so very much," he whispered. Elsie's heart fell into her stomach and she felt ill. She violently broke away from him bringing a hand to her mouth to suppress the sob that threatened to erupt. She turned and briskly walked back to their table. She reached for her handbag that was lying in her chair. Drawing it up to her chest, she fought tears as she rushed past the table. She was sure that dozens of people were watching her, as she fled for the door. As she passed the maitre d and he called to her, "Mrs. Carson, is everything all right?"

She stopped in her tracks, casting at him a withering glare, and through a thick brogue informed him, "I am _not _Mrs. Carson. I am Elsie Hughes, Housekeeper. Spinster!" _And I always will be. Charles,_ _how could you have done this to me?_ Her face fell and sobs began to escape her. She hurried to the door and disappeared into the darkened streets.

TBC…..

Please review. Don't be too cross at Charles, Elsie did admit that she was having trouble reading him tonight. It isn't always what you think either…Elsie was wound up tight. The meal they ordered came from an authentic 1920s menu and I did a bit of research on cocktails. One story goes that The Manhattan was invented in the 1874 for Winston Churchill's American born mother, as she needed a drink to serve at a party. This story however, is likely untrue and historians can place the origins of the drink safely in the 1880s. FYI, it was one of Churchill's favorite drinks. The champagne cocktail that Elsie enjoyed was one of the most popular cocktails of the 1920s. Also, coconut oil shampoo seemed to be the rage after the war, as using regular soap for cleaning hair began to diminish. Ok, I know, this isn't history class :)


	5. Just Like Alice

Flustered and uncharacteristically forgetting his better manners, Charles gestured wildly and hastily inquired, "Em, did you see which way she went?"

"Do you mean the housekeeper that I mistook for a Lady?" The slimy maitre d' barely got the last syllable out of his mouth before Charles Carson's large hand, drawn into a granite fist, met with his jaw. The smaller man stumbled backward with arms flailing trying to right himself before he fell against the wall. In obvious pain, Charles recoiled his hand. It had been some time since he had used brute force to prove a point. He shook off his giant paw of a hand and grimaced. His knuckles were already beginning to bruise and bleed, but it was worth it to wipe the smug look of the man's face.

"I shall report your rudeness to his Lordship, Earl of Grantham, my employer and your employer's landlord. I am sure that he will have a word with your manager," Charles huffed as he pushed out the front door in search of _his_ housekeeper. _Bloody hell. How dare he insult her? She has more class…..more style…..damned woman…where is she? What did I say?_ _How dare she leave me like that? _Charles' mind was raging with a storm of confusion. She had hurt him. He had meticulously planned their evening and his confession of devotion and love. Charles was not a man to leave things to chance so he wondered how everything could have gone so terribly wrong.

Elsie hurriedly made her way down High Street, her heart pounding wildly in her chest and her breathing heavy and erratic. Her head was light and spinning. She stopped to lean against the cool brick of a storefront hoping to calm herself before collapsing completely. _Damn him. '_I have always cared for you so very much.' The words ran over and over in her mind as if on some strange loop. _ Cared for me! After I've tended him, calmed him, we've comforted one another, worked beside one another, shared so much with one another._ Elsie shook her head in disbelief.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Elsie found herself sitting alone on a park bench, having run out of sidewalk and energy to run from him. Her mind had turned from disappointment to anger – at herself. _How could I have run out on him just as she did? Just like Alice. How could I have done such a thing to hurt him? _Elsie drew her hand to her mouth attempting to contain the sobs that threatened to escape. She felt ashamed of herself. _If I had only allowed him to finish speaking. _ _Oh, Charles. I am so sorry. _Would he forgive her? She hoped that he would and that she would not be another memory he locked away in a box.

Charles frantically searched the streets for Elsie. He peered in teashop windows and around corners. Thoughts of her hurt flashed through his mind. _God, please don't let someone, some man, have hurt her. Out wandering alone at night. What was she thinking? Oh, Elsie. What did I say to make her leave me? I thought I told her what she wanted to hear…_ and then it dawned on him. He remembered something he once said to Lady Mary "Tell him what's in your heart. If you still **love** him, let him know." _That's what she wanted. All she wanted was to know that I love her. I should have said that first. I don't know if I will ever quite understand her._

ooooooo

Then he saw her – a lone silhouette on a park bench. He knew her anywhere, from any angle. He knew the slope of her shoulders, the sweeping lines of her neck, position that she held herself. A sense of relief washed over him as he made his way to her quietly and sat down beside her. Neither looked at the other, not out of malice nor anger, but humility.

"I was worried," Charles finally spoke. Elsie moved her right hand from her lap and to her side settling it on the bench between them. Her palm facing upward, she invited him to take her hand. _I am the one who needs to feel steady now. _ Charles recognized her gesture and laced the fingers of his left hand into her waiting one grasping it firmly. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Elsie was ashamed that she ran out on him. _Like Alice_, she thought. _How could I have abandoned him, just like her? _

"I love you, Elsie," Charles said quietly but with earnest emotion.

"I love you, Charles. I'm sorry I ruined our evening," she replied as her voice broke.

"I had grand speech rehearsed but…"

"…but I ran out on you," Elsie cried as she finished his sentence.

"Perhaps all you wanted, needed to hear were those three words. Nothing more, nothing less," Charles conceded as he turned to look at her. "Look at me, love." He took his injured hand and cupped her cheek turning her to him. He noticed the tears brimming in her eyes and she saw him wince in pain. He took his thumb and wiped the tears from her cheek. He grimaced reflexively with the movement.

"Charles, whatever is the matter? Is it your hand?" she questioned him.

"It's nothing," he lied. _You are a terrible liar, Charles Carson. She can always see straight through you._

Elsie released her hand from his and took his injured one between both of hers. She inspected his carefully, turning it over to assess the damage. The knuckles had swollen and turned a purple-black color and blood crusted over them. She looked up at him and caught him in a deep frown. "What did you do and don't lie or I'll know."

Charles fixed his eyes on a spot just over her shoulder. _I cannot tell her what that imbecile said, it will hurt her. But I cannot lie either she will know._ "When I asked the maitre d' if he had seen which direction you took, he was less that helpful. I was upset and forgot myself and well, I was ungentlemanly." _There, that should suffice. Not a lie, just not the whole truth. Please don't let her inquire any further._

"Oh, Charles. I caused this," Elsie whimpered contritely as she inspected his hand once more. "Do you think that it's broken?" Charles was so relieved that his normally inquisitive housekeeper had accepted his explanation that he brushed off any notions that his hand was damaged any more than superficially. "Charles, I don't know what got into me. "

"Champagne cocktails," Charles chuckled

"Perhaps," Elsie replied. "Charles, while those three words are what I wanted to hear, I hate for a good speech to go unheard. Would you?" she asked with a sheepish smile. Charles returned her smile and stood. He offered his left hand to her and asked her to stand.

"I had planned to stay these things to you as we danced so if you will indulge me. You do know that I like style and show," he teased. He put his injured hand around her waist and took her right hand in his left holding it close to his chest. They began to dance slowly to a silent tune that was uniquely all their own. It had been written over many years, over happiness, sorrow, births and deaths, wars and peace, friendship and now love. Elsie locked eyes with Charles. Somehow, this moment was sweeter, more intimate than the one they shared at the restaurant. There was no expectation of a great declaration, just two people in love with one another sharing a tender moment decades in the making.

"Elsie, you know that I do," Charles echoed his words from earlier in the evening though this time with a waggle of his impressive eyebrows as if asking her to play along.

"What… do I know, Charles?" she asked biting down on her bottom lip suppressing a smile and a gentle giggle. _Ever the showman, Charles. _

"I have always cared for you so very much," he whispered. His hold on her tightened. _You're not going anywhere this time, Elsie. _ You are my very best friend, but at some point along the way I came to realize that I more than care about you…I love you. _If I had just waited a second longer_, Elsie thought. I've loved you for many years, but somewhere it changed," he conceded. Her posture relaxed, the tension in her muscles flittered away and she moved her hands to encircle his neck. He was calm. He had made his decision long ago, she knew that now and smile tugged at her lips as her eyes moistened. She did not speak aloud. This time, she would to let him finish what he had started.

He caressed her back enjoying the sensation of the silk against her skin as the fingers of his left hand combed through the hair above her ear. The sensations sent waves of pleasure through Elsie's core.

"I have spent the better part of my life with you," he began, "noticing, studying all sorts of things. How you manage your girls and my footmen or how you managed the dining room when I collapsed from overwork when you had told me to slow down and then nursed me back to health without so much as an 'I told you so.' How there are six buttons on your cream blouse and that you fasten the strap of your shoes on the third notch. I know that there is a tiny scar on your left ring finger. I don't know what caused that, but I'd like to find out. I know that you like ginger crèmes and Milady Toffees. I am amazed at how you keep an old curmudgeonly butler in line when he's being completely ridiculous. I know how you worry your bottom lip when you're worried about something or embarrassed. How you could walk to church with Mrs. Patmore or any of the women, but you always walk with me and sit beside me. Elspeth Hughes, what has changed is that I am in love with you - hopelessly and unreservedly if you will have a sad old fool like me." _You did old man. And this time she allowed you to finish._

Elsie pulled away from him and looked up into his hazel eyes. She had not known that Charles Carson, the most reserved, the most English of Englishmen, had such a beautiful declaration in him. _What it must have cost you my lovely man to have mustered all of that, because you wanted to make a grand gesture for me. _ She reached up and cupped his face with her hands as he leaned into her. "Charles Carson, I'll have no more talk of your being old or foolish, I'll thank you very much. I'll not have anyone, including you, disparaging the man that I love." With that, Charles placed his hands on Elsie's hips and bent slightly so that he could kiss her and she reached up to meet him. He kissed behind her ear and she sighed deeply as she closed her eyes in bliss. She had never felt such electricity pass through every fibre of her being. He then made his way to her jaw and then teased her, kissing the corner of her mouth. He stopped just short of her lips. She felt his warm breath upon her - he smelled of fine whiskey and dessert. Her lips parted, anticipating his lips upon hers. She had craved a more than a chaste kiss from Charles Carson, something deep and personal. She craved everything he had to give her and he coveted everything she could give to him. Something intimate and white hot. Their lips almost touching, he stopped. "Elsie," Charles whispered huskily, "shall we go home, love."

**I'm not totally pleased with this chapter. They just would not behave. But, it does move us to the next chapter where they do promise that they will behave in a manner that all of will appreciate. I know it is a little OOC for Charles to have reacted with violence but I hated the way the maitre d' behaved toward Bates and Anna and we all knew that Bates could not afford to lose his temper, so I had Charles do what I wanted Bates do. **


	6. Take Them Off, Charles

**I merely borrow them. I do not own them because if I did, something like this might happen :)**

"Well, let's get your coat off," Elsie said as she slid her hands under his jacket easing it off his shoulders and down his arms careful not to further injure his hand. _I could get used to this. Undressing him every night before we slip into bed._ "Let me help you with your cuff links." She made quick work of his links and put them on Mrs. Patmore's small desk. She rolled his sleeve and motioned for him to take a seat.

She busied herself retrieving the first aid box and a cloth to clean his hand. She located a basin to fill with water and turned to sink. "I've no doubt it will hurt in the morning," she offered as she turned the knob of the tap. "There will be no service for you tomorrow. How do you plan on explaining this to his Lord…", she stopped as she felt his presence behind her. His nimble fingers slipped under the hem of her dress, tracing up the length of her leg, every contour mapped into his consciousness. With his other hand, he parted her hair exposing her neck. She felt his warm, moist breath along her ear. She grasped the edge of the sink in front of her, the water still pouring from tap. The cool porcelain of the sink, contrasted with the heat of her hands, of Charles' body pressed against her, and the heat rising within her.

"Marry me, love," Charles' words caressed her ear as his fingers circled her thigh skillfully. Elsie reached to turn the knob and stop the water. As she bent slightly, she felt Charles lean into her even more, his desire for her evident, pressing into her flesh. _I've waited so long to hear those words. To feel him. For this moment. Slow and steady lass. _ This night was the culmination of everything that she had ever wanted. His attention, his affection, his desire, a life with him. She leaned her head back into his chest and reaching, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, her fingernails coursing through the hair on the back of his neck. His lips nipping at her ear, her jaw, that sensitive spot on her neck.

"Oh Charles," she moaned, "Let's make it soon." She felt him reach the clips of her suspenders unsnapping them one by one freeing her silk stockings. The release of the snaps caused Elsie to startle. _I am going to come undone right here in Beryl Patmore's kitchen, if he does not stop. But… I… Oh, Charles…. don't …. stop._ She turned in his arms to face him and saw in him the look that she had seen earlier in the evening. His eyes had darkened yet his expression was one of passion, love, devotion, and selflessness. She knew what he wanted, what he needed. _I need you lass. I need to feel every curve of your body Elsie. Please let me. _She traced the length of his strong jaw with her forefinger, her nail bristling, scraping against the slight stubble. The pad of her finger slipped across his lips caressing them seductively and she sighed deeply. _I love this man. _She had never been so close to him.

Charles lifted her to sit on the edge of the counter so that she could be of equal height as they began to explore this newly found closeness. "Are you all right, love?" he inquired quietly. He never wanted to do anything that she did not desire. She instinctively licked her reddened, swollen lips. _Woman! I don't know if I can take this slowly or not._ Charles felt himself stirring to the point of distraction – a sensation he tried hard to calm so that he could focus on Elsie. She breathed deeply, slowly opening and closing her eyes and nodding in a silent gesture asking him to continue. Charles knelt before her, taking her foot and placing it on his knee. He unbuckled the fastener of her shoes and carefully placed them to the side. His years in service made his motions smooth and refined.

Charles slowly rolled the flesh coloured silk stocking down her pale leg kissing her flesh along the route. Elsie thought that she might die of pleasure in that moment. Charles savored the taste of her skin; his lips tantalizing her. He took the stocking and folded it carefully laying it across the table beside him then he repeated the process again.

"Charles, I never imagined…" Elsie began. She found that she could not finish her sentence as he stood in front of her. They began slowly with restrained nips and kisses. They had waited so long for this moment and they both wanted to savor it. She opened her mouth slightly and pulled his lower lip between hers tugging gently. He caressed her tongue with his and feeling her response, he then kissed her deeply, passionately. The way a man kisses a woman when she consumes him, when he thinks of nothing but her. Their lips parted wider; their breathing heavy. Their hands wandering each other's bodies exploring each other in ways that each had only dreamt about in the quiet solitude of nights spent alone.

Elsie loosened the knot on Charles tie slowly, deliberately. She untied it and pulled it hungrily from his neck. She unfastened his collar and began unbuttoning his shirt. They looked at each other, never breaking eye contact. They had spent enough years looking away from each other, restraining themselves, and denying how they felt. When Elsie had loosened three or four buttons, she spread his shirt and ran her hands across the broad expanse of his chest. Charles shivered in delight at her touch. _I should ravage you right here, Elsie Hughes._ She made him feel like a young lad full of desire and pride that a woman could want him in such a way. _He's still so handsome and so fit, _she thought. _ Oh, Elsie, what a lucky woman you are indeed. I can only imagine what it will be like to be with him. _Elsie moved her hands to his shoulders and slid them under his braces, pushing them gently down his arms so that they hung at his sides. She moved to unbutton his pants as Charles reached for the snaps that held in place the barrier between him and her bare flesh – her new dress.

"We can't do this," Charles sighed.

"What?" Elsie asked incredulously. "Do you not want.." _He cannot possibly stop here…._

"No, no. Love, what I mean," Charles stammered, "is we cannot do this here. We should find a more suitable…place." Elsie breathed a sigh of relief. "Perhaps your sitting room?" Charles offered.

"Heavens no. Remember…. the grate?" she reminded him gently. She thought for a moment, gathered their things, and then taking his hand in her own. "Come with me."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Elsie slipped the key into the lock and turned it quietly. She felt like a young housemaid slipping in after curfew trying not to wake the light sleeping Housekeeper who no doubt had a time honed speech at the ready. Elsie had given the same speech to her girls countless times. _Nothing that goes on after curfew amounts to anything good. May I remind you of a housemaid we had here at Downton once who found herself with child and on the mercy of the world. _ She smiled slightly. _Doing the same thing you've preached to them about? _ As she opened the door, she turned to look at Charles with his shirt open and braces hanging loose. His hair mussed and that stubborn curl hanging down on his forehead. _What does it hurt to break curfew, Elsie? You love him. He loves you. You are mature adults. You're practically married. You will be married and soon._

The Crawley's seldom used The Blue Room except when the Abbey overflowed with guests, but Elsie always made sure that it was ready on a moment's notice to accommodate any situation. Tonight it would accommodate them – two old friends turned lovers. Their fidelity, devotion, and unspoken understandings promised long ago. Tonight they pledged themselves in the most intimate way that a man and woman could consecrate their union, joining themselves to one another. In a few days, they would make their way to the Registry Office to make official what had been unofficial for years.

Charles slipped Elsie's dress from her shoulders letting it skim down her body to the floor pooling around her feet. He groaned in pleasure upon seeing her in a state of undress. The vision was more than he ever dreamed. _Heaven above, she's gorgeous. Perfect in every way. _ "Elsie, may I look at you a moment please. I don't mean to embarrass you but…you are breathtaking, love."

Elsie knew that her figure wasn't what it used to be. When she was younger, she prided herself on a trim and toned physique. She saw the looks that the men of the house directed her way, including a young Charles Carson. Over the years, she had developed a few more curves but she knew that Charles still found her desirable and that was all that mattered. She had chosen a new style of undergarment for tonight - a matching peach brassiere and new underbust corset. The sensation was liberating from her old corset – freer and she could move easier. Of course she would still wear her old corset during working hours, but tonight Charles seemed enamored with this new style and she was pleased.

"Will I do, Charles?" she teased.

"Very well, Mrs. Hughes. Very well, indeed." Charles panted pulling her close and fingering the peach lace of her brassiere as it met the top of her breasts.

"Your turn dear," Elsie taunted as she extracted herself from Charles' grip. She unbuttoned his pants and pulled the remainder of his shirt free. She pushed it down his arms and unceremoniously cast it aside. She removed his vest next and her mouth dropped open for a brief moment upon seeing Charles bare chest.

"Well, will _I_ do?" he asked sheepishly, a half smile and raised eyebrow indicating his playful mood.

She raked her nails through the graying hair on his chest. "Oh, yes, quite nicely," she purred. Charles kicked off his shoes and pants and removed his socks.

"Come here," he called to Elsie, "tell me what this is?" He smoothed his forefingers along the straps of her brassiere and then along the sides of each breast. He listened patiently as she told him of the newest fashion, even though she thought she was too old to change her ways, but she quite enjoyed the effect it was having on him _and her_. "It is quite lovely, Elsie, but, em, could I, would you mind if I, um…" Charles stammered like a schoolboy.

"Let me help, love," she offered sensing his embarrassment. _Charles, you don't have to ask. I freely give myself to you. _ Elsie unbuttoned the four small buttons that met in the front center of her new undergarment. As she let it fall open, Charles slid the garment from her body allowing it to drop to floor among the menagerie of their discarded clothing. Elsie stood before him half clothed and self-conscious for the first time. Charles saw her blush. He cupped both of her breasts and lovingly brushed his thumbs across them.

"Don't be shy with me, Elsie. I love you, lass."

"I know, Charles." Charles undressed the woman he loved and calmed her fears through gentle kisses and sweet confessions of love and adoration. He loved her more than he could ever find the words to tell her and she felt swept up in a whirlwind of passion and contentment.

Charles maneuvered Elsie toward the bed and gently laid her across it. She lay on her side and he settled in to face her. He placed a hand on her hip and she brushed the errant curl from his forehead.

"Charles, you still have your shorts on," Elsie pointed out, running a finger under the waist of his undershorts and tugging suggestively.

"I wanted to make certain that you absolutely want to follow through with…" he gestured between them, "…this." She smiled.

"Take them off, Charles," she demanded in a thick brogue. Charles began to push his undershorts down but not quickly enough for Elsie's liking. She sat up on her knees and vigorously shimmied them the rest of the way down Charles' legs and she flung them across the room. Charles chuckled at the sight of the usually stern faced Mrs. Hughes, the Housekeeper of Downton Abbey, kneeling on the bed in front of him nude, flinging his undershorts over her head with wild abandon.

"Charles, I never dreamed I could be so happy," Elsie cooed as she draped herself across her soon to be husband.

"Well, with you here, like this, I can think of one way we both might be a little happier," he teased.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I never got round to tending your hand," Elsie sighed as she lay in Charles arms.

"What hand?" Charles rumbled pulling her closer. _What you tended was much more important than my hand. _

"Daft man," Elsie smiled.


	7. I still have one birthday wish

"Mrs. Patmore," Daisy called.

"Yes, Daisy. What is it?" When Daisy stumbled for a moment, unsure of quite how to proceed, she heard Mrs. Patmore's voice slice sharply across the kitchen "Well, what is it? I don't have all day."

"Well, Mrs. Patmore, when I came down this morning, I found some things that weren't in the kitchen last night and I'm not sure how they got here," Daisy started. "I wanted to show them to you before I said anything to Mr. Carson."

Mrs. Patmore perched her hands upon her hips and smarted, "And just why would you say anything to Mr. Carson?"

"Well, one of the things I found were one of his cufflinks," Daisy finished as she handed Mrs. Patmore a shiny silver cufflink engraved with the initials CEC.

"So?" Mrs. Patmore smarted. "He probably lost one. That's the bee in your bonnet? "

Daisy blushed deep shade of pink before pulling a flesh colored silky object from her apron pocket and timidly handing it to Mrs. Patmore. "Right near the cuff link were this. A ladies stockin'."

"I see," Beryl replied as she studied the object closely. It couldn't have been a maid's stocking; it was too fine for that and it wouldn't be one of the lady's stockings separated from the laundry. Then it struck her. Charles Carson's cuff link with a woman's silk stocking next to it. There was only one conclusion that she could draw. She knew that Charles and Mrs. Hughes had gone to supper the night before. She understood why Daisy might have been embarrassed – Daisy was no longer the innocent girl who came to Downton as a lowly kitchen maid. She, too, had noticed the glances between the butler and the housekeeper, the handholding at the beach, the walks around the gardens, and had known of their supper plans. "Daisy, you did right by bringin' 'em to me. Don't say a word to anyone." Mrs. Patmore patted Daisy's arm quickly put the items in her pocket.

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore," Daisy replied obediently as she went about her business for the day. Daisy smiled to herself daydreaming of the romance between the butler and the housekeeper. Over the years, she had imagined all sorts of scenarios and Thomas and O'Brien had, at one point, convinced her that Mrs. Hughes was actually Mrs. Carson. And so what if Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes were up to a little something in the kitchen the night before. Daisy delighted in the possibility.

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Charles practically bounded down stairs with a decidedly new vigor in his step. Elsie was just a few paces ahead of him and he enjoyed the view before him. He watched her hips sway with what he swore was something a little….more….. and thought of her in just her corset and then out of it swirled in his head like dandelion petals in the summer wind.

"Good Morning Mrs. Hughes. You're looking very well this morning," added as he subtly inspected her form and patted her bottom. Though only physically affectionate with one another for two days, Charles could barely contain the urge to touch her. For Charles Carson, Pandora's Box had been opened.

"I am well this morning, Mr. Carson. You are looking rather well yourself," Elsie teased while maintaining a serious demeanor as she turned to give him a stern look for patting her bottom in the servant's corridor. _Incorrigible one you are Charles Carson._

"Indeed I am. Might I see you in my pantry for a moment? There is something that I need your assistance with" Charles inquired as he opened the door and ushered her into his room. He shut the door behind him and they looked at each other for a long moment. _Something isn't quite right. Charles looks different this morning. What exactly is it?_

"Well, what is it you need my assistance with?" Elsie asked seriously. Charles sat back against his desk. As he had so many times before, Charles looked over Elsie's figure with an admiring eye. He had always daydreamed about her, fantasized about her, how soft her skin would feel under his touch, which places on her body were the most sensitive. Now that his fantasies had been realized, he knew exactly how her skin felt and how he could please her, it would be difficult to concentrate on his duties, especially on this day. Due to his injuries, Charles would turn most of his public duties over to Thomas giving him all day to think of only her. There would be no distraction of serving the family at luncheon or supper and he thought about how he might find himself downstairs most of the day, perhaps in her sitting room as she darned socks or mulled over the accounts. He might just sit near her while she worked – just to be near her. _I cannot be without her again._

"Well, first, I needed your assistance with my collar. Could you hook it for me? I couldn't manage it. And my tie? Could you fix it for me, love? It was terribly difficult with my hand swollen and all" Charles remarked timidly as he held up a blackened and swollen hand for her inspection. Elsie smiled at him; he looked so boyish.

"I'm sure one of the young lads would have done this for you," she admonished though secretly delighted that he wanted her to do it. _My lovely man. _She had imagined their mornings together, her helping him with the stud in the back of his collar and him helping her lace her corset and maybe a little nibble on her shoulder while he did so. Elsie reached round his neck and fastened his collar at the stud. Charles delighted in the sensation of her bosom pressed so close to his lips as she leaned into him. _I can be quite the plotter when I want to be, Elsie Hughes. _Elsie reached to the loose ribbon of black fabric hanging about his neck and lovingly proceeded to loop it making the necessary slips and knots. She felt a flush come over her as she stood so close to Charles doing such a mundane exercise yet one so sensual. Charles smugly jutted his chin up and forward as she worked. "There was a time when you'd dare not come out of your room in this state of undress. I distinctly remember your dressing down of poor William for a small rip in his coat seam," she teased making a tisking sound as she carefully went about her task. Charles reveled in their closeness, in the deliberate care she took, the precision of her movements. Though she had loosened his tie last night, there was something more personal, intimate about what she was doing now. This was something a wife did for her husband – making certain he was fit and proper for the day. Checking his appearance, she adjusted his collar and the edge of her nail made the faintest of touches across the skin of his neck. Charles swallowed hard; he desired her so much yet had to restrain himself in the light of day. Elsie worried her bottom lip, rolling it under her top teeth causing it to blanch. He would be her husband by law in a couple of weeks; he was already her husband in her heart and with her body. "There, all finished. Now you look a proper Butler," she said as she smoothed his tie – an excuse to run her hands across his chest.

"Mrs. Hughes?" Charles inquired as he snaked his hands around her waist pulling her close to him.

"Yes, Mr. Carson?"

"How is it that you know how to knot a man's tie? Charles asked as he nibbled on her earlobe breathing in the coconut scent of her hair and the lavender of her soap.

"Well, Mr. Carson, I cannot tell all my secrets," she laughed as ran her fingers through his hair. "Oh, Charles, your half day is tomorrow and I do hope that you are planning a trip into Ripon to fetch the license?" Elsie's need for Charles was beginning to overwhelm her and she could plainly feel that Charles' need for her was physically evident and growing by the second. Charles moved from nibbling Elsie's ear to kissing her passionately and caressing her bottom. When Elsie dreamed of one day retiring with Charles, she thought that theirs would be a quiet affair. Not a great passion, she had said to herself, a loving commitment yes; but not filled with passion. _Oh, how wrong you were lass_.

"Never mind me," Mrs. Patmore interjected flatly realizing that her friends were unaware of her presence in the doorway. _Finally. It's about time, you two._ "So, an agreeable night, eh?" Charles and Elsie pulled apart slightly and Charles turned a deep shade of crimson, his eyes immediately finding an interesting spot on the floor._ I am going to enjoy this. Have a little fun at their expense._

"We had a very nice supper, thank you" Elsie remarked turning to acknowledge Mrs. Patmore's presence, yet not moving away from Charles. Never one to give Beryl Patmore the upper hand, Elsie Hughes refused to spring away from her man. They were far from a young maid caught with a footman in the linen closet. _We are adults. We love each other and the door was shut. Even children are taught not to open a closed door. Honestly, Beryl. _ Charles, Elsie noted, maneuvered Elsie so that she stood slightly in front of him and he held fast to her waist. In fact, his grip became tighter; she could not move if she had wanted to. _Please don't move Elsie or Beryl will see my embarrassment._

"A nice supper? Hmmmm…..and that's _all_ you enjoyed?" Beryl smirked. _Come on Elsie, girl, give us the details. _

"Beg your pardon?" Charles blustered finally looking up, eyebrows raised to his hairline and eyes shooting daggers. _How dare you Beryl Patmore. This is not a fit topic for conversation and none of your concern._

Elsie refused to allow Mrs. Patmore's teasing to fluster her. "What are you going on about," Elsie asked.

"Well, this" Beryl said placing the cufflink on the nearby table, "and this," placing a neatly rolled stocking beside it. "Daisy found them in the kitchen this morning. Where, I imagine they had been dropped in the haste of someone gathering up their things."

Ever the quick thinker, Elsie stepped in, "Mr. Carson had an accident and had to roll his sleeve so that I could tend his hand." Charles held out his hand for Mrs. Patmore to see.

Always one to give Elsie a run for her money, Beryl countered looking at Charles, yet speaking to Elsie "And I suppose you had an accident that required Mr. Carson to tend your leg, did ya?" Then looking at Charles, "Well, I hope you're goin' to make an honest woman out of her? " Charles looked sheepishly at his feet. Elsie knew that the cook had them to rights and that she might as well confess something to her friend if only to stop Beryl's teasing and put Charles out of his misery. Charles loosened his grip on Elsie's hip and she moved closer to the cook.

"We've not told anyone, but yes, Mr. Carson has asked me to marry him and I agreed," Elsie said triumphantly.

"It certainly is about time," Beryl smiled as she took the housekeepers hands in her own. "It took you long enough to ask her," she directed at Charles. "But please, the next time you get up to no good, stay out of my kitchen," Beryl teased.

Beryl gave congratulations to her friends and as Elsie walked her to the door, she promised that nothing actually took place in the kitchen. Beryl wanted details she said and the tight-lipped housekeeper refused to tell her anything more but touched a key on her waist with a knowing look. Satisfied for the moment, Beryl closed the door leaving them alone for a few moments before breakfast.

Charles moved to sit in his well-worn leather chair, the one that she sat in while he was gone during the season to feel close to him. It smelled of him, that scent that was uniquely Charles and over the years had molded to his shape. During the season after she sent all the younger staff to bed, Elsie eased into Charles' chair sinking into the shape that was him. Somehow, she felt that he was with her. She wondered now, that if she told him, if he would think her too sentimental. Perhaps it was a memory she would keep to herself to cherish.

"Come here, love," Charles called to her as he pulled her into his lap. His demeanor turned decidedly more serious. Elsie became concerned. After the night they spent together, she wondered what could make Charles so timid.

"Whatever is the matter Charles," she asked as she placed a hand on his arm giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I still have one birthday wish."

"Charles, I do believe that you exhausted your birthday wishes last night."

"No, wish number two was that I might have the perfect night with you. That wish was granted," he said giving her thigh a gentle pat. She smiled at him a broad, genuine smile. He flattered her and she loved him for it. For the first time since she could remember she felt like a woman, someone a man desired in all ways for every part of her. She knew that he admired her mind; they talked of books, politics, religion, and of course, the house. He loved the authoritative side of her; he admired that the younger staff respected her and valued her counsel. He appreciated her physical attributes as he had proven to her every time that he admired her when he thought she was not looking and when they finally consummated their feelings.

"I've….I've…thought about retiring. I know that all of this is new, but I have been thinking about this for some time now and I remembered what you said that day at the seaside about 'we can afford to live a little.' Well, I think that I would like to live a little….with you….in our own cottage…. "

"Well, we've agreed that we are to be married," Elsie offered a bit confused. She had not thought that they would leave Downton quite yet. She knew that she wanted to marry Charles and soon but, she had given very little thought to them leaving service almost immediately. She believed that his Lordship might allow them to stay in their positions for a few more years until they were ready to retire. She still enjoyed her job and everything had happened so quickly. "Don't you think that His Lordship will allow us to be married and remain in our positions?" _I hadn't thought through leaving this soon... _

"I don't want our days…and nights regulated by the house. I have devoted enough of my hours to it. Before our understanding, I would never have considered retirement but I want to devote my hours to you and a cottage and to pottering around in a garden. I do not want to be separated by the Season." Charles offered with a half smile. _Come on lass. Don't make me say that I'm tired. That it will kill me to watch standards continue to drop. I want to devote the life I have left to you. _"Think on love, you make the decision as to when."

**Reviews and suggestions are always appreciated. We probably have a few more chapters to go before we wrap it up.**


	8. Before Rumors Begin To Fly

Breakfast moved along smoothly with the servants chatting amiably but quietly. They knew that Mr. Carson did not relish loud conversation in the mornings so they kept their conversations soft and gentle. Miss Baxter and Mr. Molesley engaged in a conversation among themselves and several of the young maids were nattering away and giggling about something or another. In order to avoid unnecessary questions, Mr. Carson explained that he dropped a case of wine on his hand resulting in the bruise and swelling he sustained. None of the staff dared question him but some of the more inquisitive staff noticed that Mr. Carson's demeanor had changed significantly. His features had softened and he could not tear his gaze away from Mrs. Hughes. The two most curious minds at the table, Thomas and Anna, studied two heads of staff carefully. Thomas looked for anything that he could use at an opportune moment. He saw the way that Mr. Carson looked longingly at Mrs. Hughes; the way he brushed her fingers with his own when she passed his coffee to him and she blushed. How Mr. Carson's eyes darkened and he reflexively licked his lips as she bit into her toast. How his eyes drifted to her bosom as she breathed. He noticed as Mr. Carson watched Mrs. Hughes stir her porridge then lift her spoon to her lips taking in a mouthful. Thomas scrutinized Mr. Carson as he studied the movements of Mrs. Hughes' jaw as she swallowed the porridge down – his mouth slightly open, then a sharp intake of breath. Mr. Carson indicated to Mrs. Hughes that a small drop of porridge was still on the corner of her mouth by pointing to his with his forefinger and patting. Thomas watched as Mrs. Hughes took her napkin and blotted the offending morsel away. Charles Carson sat motionless and mesmerized the entire time. _Something is going on with them._ _At their ages. I didn't know the old boy had it in him or her for that matter. I bet they have to use an instruction manual._

Anna studied the Housekeeper as she measured out the perfect amount of sugar into the Butler's coffee – two lumps – and stirred it slightly. As she passed it to him, Anna noticed their fingers brushing and Mrs. Hughes cheeks tinge slightly pink and a smile tug at her lips as Mr. Carson's eyebrows waggled ever so slightly. Anna pressed her hand to Mr. Bates knee and nodded for him to watch the two senior members of staff. Anna noticed as Mrs. Hughes watched Mr. Carson fumble with his toast as he attempted to butter it and spoon marmalade across it. She gently placed her hand on his arm and offered to finish it for him. She took great care with it and then when he clumsily attempted to use his left hand to manipulate his spoon, Mrs. Hughes asked him if he needed her assistance. He blushed furiously and tucked his chin into his chest. He politely declined and ended with a large dollop of porridge on his coat. Anna watched as Mrs. Hughes swiftly thrust her chair back and moved to Mr. Carson's side carefully wiping the dollop of porridge from his coat. She instinctively moved to shed him of his coat to have it cleaned by one of the laundry maids. Anna and Mr. Bates looked on mesmerized as Mrs. Hughes slipped her hands underneath the Butler's coat at his shoulders and began to pull it off his broad frame. The Butler and Housekeeper's eyes met and a moment of electricity passed between them – the tension palpable. Mrs. Hughes worried her bottom lip as Mr. Carson's mouth slightly opened. Mrs. Hughes breathed heavily and then excused herself from the table on the pretext of taking Mr. Carson's coat to the scullery. Anna and Mr. Bates observed Mr. Carson as he surveyed the swaying figure of Mrs. Hughes as she left the Servant's Hall. Anna leaned toward Mr. Bates "Do you think that there is something going on between those two?"

Mr. Bates considered carefully what he had witnessed before he spoke. "I'd say more than something," he replied with a twinkle in his eye and a smile.

"Well, I think it's nice," his wife replied. _I'm so happy for them. They deserve some happiness. Autumn love is so beautiful. She looks so happy. I don't believe I've ever seen her so very happy. I knew they had it in them._

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"Well, tell me about it. Was it everything you thought it would be? Don't leave out any details." Beryl rattled off excitedly. _Ooooh, Elsie Hughes, I can't believe you got Charles Carson to disregard the rules. All that bluster about the propriety and reputation of the house!_

Elsie looked up from her books, swiveled round to find an excited cook holding a tea tray and standing in her doorway. She motioned for the Cook to come in and shut the door. "I think that you've had your fun for today," Elsie answered disapprovingly as she removed her reading glasses and primly placed her hands in her lap.

Beryl placed the tea try on the table and poured a cup for them both. Knowing that her friend was a tight lipped, Scots-Calvinist and unlikely to give out the slightest bit of intimate information, Beryl knew that she needed to prod Elsie along. "Well then, why were you in the kitchen?"

"Did you not believe me when I said that he injured his hand and I needed to tend it?" _I never tended his hand. Poor love. _

"How did your stockin' come off in the kitchen? Beryl had imagined all sorts of scenarios and none of them innocent. Elsie offered nothing but a sharp look. "He took it off did he? Well, well, Mrs. Hughes. I never had Mr. Carson figured for a Romeo. And is he nimble with a corset too? I bet he is. And he's such a stickler for detail too."

"Mrs. Patmore, you must stop," Elsie demanded though she knew her request fell on deaf ears. _As if I would answer any of these questions and embarrass Charles or give you any personal satisfaction. And yes, he is quite nimble with a corset and a stickler for detail. So very detail oriented, that man._

"Oh, alright," Beryl conceded begrudgingly. "He obviously made you very happy. You're practically glowin'" _Flatter her. Maybe that will get her talking._

"He _makes_ me very happy yes," Elsie replied as she sipped her tea cautiously. _You are not getting a thing out of me Beryl Patmore. _ "He wants to retire and for me to retire with him. He said that he wants to devote his days to me and cottage and pottering round in a garden."

"That's very sweet," Beryl cooed. She noticed as Elsie worried her lip. Elsie had not realized that she had made the gesture. "What's wrong, Mrs. Hughes?"

Elsie explained that she loved Charles but that things had moved so slowly for so long that when Charles finally made his declaration and asked her to marry him, she had been taken by surprise by the speed of his decision to retire. "I've been in my position for so long, that I, well, I thought that while unusual, perhaps, Lord Grantham might allow us to stay on a while longer and retire in a few years. Charles left the date up to me, but I know that he is ready to retire soon."

Beryl pondered thoughtfully a moment, "I've known Mr. Carson a long time, since he was a footman. He's had many a year of long days filled with hours of standing at attention and long nights of dedication to the family's every whim. I have never seen someone so devoted to a family like that man. He feels a part of them. If he's willin' to give that, to give them, up for you, don't that say something'?"

Elsie smiled in reflection of her friend's words and Charles' willingness to leave Downton behind for her. "I suppose it says a lot," Elsie replied quietly as she extended her hand to clutch Mrs. Patmore's. Wise words. _Thank you Beryl. You are a good friend indeed. _

"I'm jealous, you know," Beryl confessed. _ Mr. Tufton only wanted me for my cooking._

"Of me? Why on earth?"

"It's not every day that a woman our age has the love of a good man. Especially one that wants to devote his days to pottering round in 'er garden," Beryl added with a grin and knowing glance.

Beryl's meaning was not lost of the housekeeper, Elsie's mouth flew open, and a hand instinctively drew up to cover it. The two women burst into gales of laughter and giggles. Beryl was right and Elsie knew it.

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Elsie called over her shoulder beckoning her husband-to-be to enter her sitting room. There was no need for her to turn round, for she sensed his presence. She turned to face him with a smile; she always had a smile for him when he entered her sitting room. He seemed anxious and his jovial mood from breakfast hidden behind a mask of apprehension.

"He wants to see us." The statement was flat and dry. _Surely, no one saw us. Daisy would keep her own counsel, wouldn't she? Of course, she would. And Beryl only teases. She wouldn't hurt Elsie. Did we make such a spectacle of ourselves at breakfast that someone said something to him? She's so lovely. I couldn't help myself sitting so close to her. Who would say something to his Lordship? Thomas? If he confronts us, I will resign._

"What about?" Elsie inquired without asking whom Charles meant. She knew very well who the 'he' in question was. _Were we that careless? Did someone see us? Or hear us? Beryl has Daisy well trained; she wouldn't have said a word. Breakfast? I was too forward. Mooning over Charles like a schoolgirl. Who would have said something to his Lordship? Thomas? If His Lordship confronts us, I will resign._ "Well," Elsie summed up matter of factly, "we'll not find out what he wants by standing here." She gave Charles a brush across the cheek with her palm. "You can hold my hand if you need to feel steady."

"What if they see?" he asked sheepishly. All of the sudden he had grown worried. _This is what happens when you break the rules, lad. Rules keep the ship righted._

"We are to be married," she offered gently. "There is nothing wrong with an affianced couple holding hands. They will know sooner or later anyway," she reasoned. _Come on Charles. You have been brave thus far. You are willing to leave them for me, stand up to them now and I will stand with you._

Charles slipped his hand into Elsie's and began to calm somewhat. They climbed the stairs and when they reached the green baize door, Charles drew in a deep breath. Elsie let go of his hand; she knew that she could only push his boundaries so far and that to enter into Robert's presence hand in hand might be too much. She looked to Charles and mouthed a silent 'I love you.' He returned the sentiment and then opened the door for her.

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Charles and Elsie found Robert awaiting them in the library. Charles entered with his usual self-assured posture and Elsie, never one to cower to anyone, entered with a purposeful stride and a pleasant but determined look on her face. Elsie prepared herself as a field marshal going to battle. Surprised that he had requested to see them together, Charles was proud to have Elsie at his side.

"Carson, Mrs. Hughes" Robert began, "I have a message for you. I received a telephone call this morning from Mr. Shaw the proprietor of the restaurant at which you and Mrs. Hughes dined last evening. He wanted me to extend his deepest apologies to you both for the boorish behavior of his maitre d'. He apologized profusely for the insult the man hurled at Mrs. Hughes and said that he holds you at no fault for the altercation with the man as you were defending her honor."

"Thank you Milord," Carson said as he puffed his chest out proudly. Now Elsie knew the truth of the matter. She tucked her chin down, a smile tugging at her lips. _My man. Oh, Charles you were afraid to tell me that the man insulted me and you were defending my honor. I could cry with pride._

"And," Robert continued, "The man in question was released from his position without reference."

"Milord," Charles began uneasily, "I should tell you that…" Elsie sensed Charles trepidation even though she knew he loved her and wanted to marry her. He could share his feelings with her yet sharing with Lord Grantham, proved much more difficult. _Let me help you, love._

"Milord, what Mr. Carson means to say is that he has asked me to marry him and I have accepted," Elsie happily finished as she tucked her hand inside Charles' elbow. Charles beamed with pride, a wide smile erupting. _My lovely girl. You always help me to feel steady when I feel unsure. _

"Milord, we were hoping to be married soon. I think that you will find that we could manage quite well with no disruption to the household if we were allowed to marry and remain in our posts. However, I should say that I am considering retirement though I am not sure that Mrs. Hughes is quite ready to give up her position. I thought that perhaps we might stay on while so that we could train our replacements and allow Mrs. Hughes the time she needs to adjust to the idea of retirement."

Robert looked genuinely stunned. He took a seat on the sofa and rubbed his hand over his forehead. "I must say that this is quite a surprise. You do know that this sort of thing isn't done. Perhaps in a smaller household or in London. I mean, many butlers and housekeeper do marry for companionship but _after _they retire. "

"Humph," Charles interrupted, clearing his throat. Robert looked up to see his butler and his housekeeper both peering at him furiously. Charles protectively drew Elsie to his side with an arm around her waist and immediately Robert realized his mistake. _Oh, good god, I've offended them. Carson and Mrs. Hughes? Who would have thought it? Wonders will never cease._

Robert stood to apologize. "I meant no offense Carson, Mrs. Hughes. It was a stupid thing to say. But Carson, do you think that you can devote the proper time necessary to a wife and to your duties at the house?"

"Mr. Carson's loyalty to the family has never been in question Milord but, I'm afraid that he has misunderstood me. I do plan to retire with Mr. Carson as soon as arrangements are made for our replacements," Elsie finished. The Butler and the Housekeeper marveled at one another. _I love you lass. I love you my man._

Robert recognized the gaze with which his Housekeeper and Butler looked at one another. It was the same look that and his lady shared: affection, adoration, trust, confidence, and desire. "No, you are right on that account, Mrs. Hughes. You both have been very loyal and because of that loyalty, I will grant your request. You may remain in your posts whilst we find your replacements. And since you are retiring together, you may choose a cottage, any cottage you like. Many of the cottages are furnished but if you find one that isn't we shall take care of to your liking. We can discuss how to shift some of your duties to Barrow. Now go and tell the staff before rumors begin to fly."

**Reviews are always appreciated. We are beginning to wind this one down. A couple more chapters I do believe to make an even 10. Thank you for sticking with it for this long. I still do not own them.**


	9. I, Margaret Elspeth

Charles strode into the Servant's Hall with his usual aplomb and stood at his place at the head of the table. The scraping of chairs pushing back as the junior servants stood making a cacophony of clatter and he motioned for them to sit. Elsie had gone to the kitchen to gather Daisy and Mrs. Patmore. When Mrs. Patmore questioned why they were needed, Elsie simply assured her that Charles requested their presence in the Servant's Hall for an announcement and that it was the one that she had waited to hear for years. Beryl's lips curved into smile as she looped her arm into that of her friend and they walked toward the hall together.

Elsie stood in the doorway with a shoulder leaned into the doorframe. She watched the man that she knew so well as he commanded the room in front of her. Charles stood tall, back erect, commanding the room and those in his presence. If they only knew that the stern faced giant of a man in front of them was a cuddly acquiescent teddy bear with her. She smiled at the thought.

"I am retiring as butler of Downton Abbey," Charles made the statement with the customary tone of one giving out the day's announcements and duties. For a moment silence abounded and then murmurings and then questions of "Why?" and "Are you unwell?" abounded. Charles held out his great hands in an attempt to silence them and continued. "I am perfectly well, but the reason that I have decided to retire is that I am to be married."

"To whom?" Thomas smirked knowingly. _I knew it! They are actually going to marry. A marriage of convenience I bet. Couldn't be any more than that. They are too old for more than conversation. My grandparents age. This is my chance. Butler of Downton Abbey! Finally out of the old man's shadow._

Charles refused to rise to his baiting and from the doorway, came the answer. "I have accepted Mr. Carson's proposal of marriage, Thomas," chirped Elsie. "I am retiring as well and we are to be married next week," Elsie answered more fully as she moved to Charles side. She did not reach for Charles and he did not reach for her, they simply stood side by side both wreathed in smiles. Anna nudged John and smiled. _I knew it! I am so happy for her. For them. She has loved him so long and he finally came to his senses. A marriage of love. Passion maybe. They way that they look at each other. I wonder if she'll ask me to be Housekeeper? She's certainly trained me for the position, she said. I'd be honored to follow in her footsteps._

"His Lordship has been generous enough to allow us a cottage and to allow us to stay in our posts through the transition of hiring a new butler and housekeeper. Things _will_ continue to operate as they always have with no interruption," Charles concluded with raised eyebrows for emphasis.

After the customary congratulations and well wished, Charles instructed the servants to sit and finish their tea. A long night of work still lay ahead of them and he refused to allow the announcement of their retirement and marriage to disrupt the household.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

As the days passed, Charles had indeed made his way into Ripon to retrieve the license for their marriage. Neither wanted a grand wedding. Together they had decided that Beryl should stand witness for them and that Anna, should she wish to come, would be welcome. Elsie placed advertisements in The Lady and sent letters of inquiry to other houses of similar stature to Downton inquiring of references for a new housekeeper. Charles began sending letters out among his butler friends and making telephone calls seeking references for those who might be interested in filling his position. It seemed rather surreal to them that they should be leaving their posts. Never before had Charles fathomed the idea of retirement and Elsie envisioned a quiet retirement in her own cottage with days filled with charity work, reading, visiting friends, and perhaps looking after Anna and John's wee ones. Yet, here they were.

They toured the cottages and found one suitable for their needs. It had two bedrooms and two baths, a sitting room, large kitchen suitable for a comfortable table, and an extra room with no specific purpose that they decided to use as a library. The cottage was not furnished, but as Lord Grantham had promised, as a wedding present and for their years of service, he allowed them a stipend to furnish their home as they saw fit. Charles expressed his dismay at the lack of a garden, but Elsie reminded him that a garden was something that they could work on together. That they could decide on what plants to install and where. She relished the idea of she and Charles working side by side in their own garden and seeing the fruits of their labors bloom into fullness.

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Three soft knocks at her door alerted her to his presence, yet he entered without be asked as was their custom. She swiveled round in her desk chair, always a smile to greet him. "Well, you're ready then?" she asked.

"Mr. Branson insisted on driving us," Charles rumbled with a half smile and a roll of his eyes as Elsie fetched her coat. "Come here," he beckoned. She crossed the room to stand in front of him and he helped her with her coat. "Today is the last day that you shall stand in this room as Elsie Hughes. When we get back, you shall be Elsie Carson."

"So I shall," she replied softly and cupped his face gently. "Why not give Elsie Hughes one last kiss in her parlour and then you may kiss Elsie Carson upon _her_ return." Charles, always acquiescing to Elsie's wishes lowered his head to meet her lips with a gentle, sweet kiss. "Charles, Elsie Carson will expect not so chaste a kiss tonight," Elsie whispered with a soft swat at his chest.

The couple, arm in arm, moved down the servant's corridor to the kitchen to collect Beryl who was overjoyed to accompany them. As Beryl was nattering on with Charles about various things, Elsie noticed Daisy out of the corner of her eye. The girl looked sad, no disappointed, Elsie thought. As Beryl gathered her things, Elsie made her way to Daisy and took her arm. "Daisy, would you like to go with us. You may stand with Mrs. Patmore," Elsie offered kindly. The girl's face immediately brightened that Mrs. Hughes would think to invite her to their wedding. Daisy enthusiastically accepted. "Well, run up and change quickly. We have about ten minutes before we must be leaving," Elsie advised. Daisy rushed past the Cook and the Butler on her way to change.

"That were a nice thing you done, Mrs. Hughes," Mrs. Patmore offered.

"Well, she is often left out of the festivities and she did keep her counsel about what she found," Elsie laughed heartily, "It's the least I could do for her."

The group departed for the Registry Office with Mrs. Patmore, Daisy and Anna accompanying them. Charles wore such a large smile on his face that Mrs. Patmore remarked that his face might actually crack. He cared not one wit. In an hour the woman beside him, dressed in the midnight blue dress from their date, would be his wife. _His_ wife! He could not believe that he had taken so long to come to his senses, to summon the courage to be honest with her about his feelings. Theirs had been a slow burn to be certain. _Slow burn no more, old man. I will show her everyday that I have breath what she means to me. _

Elsie tucked in close to Charles taking in his body warmth and the smell of his cologne. Daisy and Anna nudged each other with knowing smiles. Elsie cared not one wit. In an hour the man beside her, dressed in the blue suit and tie from their date, would be her husband. _Her_ husband! She had loved him for so long, had tried to show him in every possible way, yet it took him so long to come round. Theirs had been a slow burn to be certain. _Oh, Charles, I love you so. I will show you everyday what you mean to me._

As they waited for the registrar to call their names, Daisy, Anna and Mrs. Patmore all attended to the bride. Anna gave Elsie a handkerchief with embroidery on a corner that read "CEC and EHC, April 12, 1925" – a gift from Miss Baxter – something new and blue. Daisy gave Elsie a sixpence for her shoe provided by Tom. Mrs. Patmore gave the Housekeeper a pair of fine earrings to wear. Elsie stopped to question where they came from. Lady Mary, Mrs. Patmore answered. A tear formed in the Housekeeper's eye. _The uppity minx. _Elsie smiled in spite of herself._ Thank you, Lady Mary._

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At the end of a very long, yet very happy day, Charles and Elsie made their way home to the cottage. Elsie turned the key, after all Charles had called her the keeper of the keys, and they made their way inside. Charles had wanted to carry her over the threshold, but Elsie protested this saying that she wanted him fit for the wedding night. Charles turned the light switch and took in a deep breath. They were home, their home. He helped Elsie remove her coat and hung it on the coat tree near the door and then removed and hung his own next to hers. _Next to hers_. All of the new things that he only dreamed of were now a reality. Mundane things such as his coat hanging next to hers on the coat tree in their home. He felt silly almost, the things he could have had all along.

"A cup of tea to unwind?" Elsie asked as she headed toward the kitchen.

Without saying a word, Charles grabbed her wrist firmly but not to hurt her. He turned her around, his eyes piercing, his heart pulsing with passion for his wife, and he kissed her ravenously and passionately. Elsie returned his kisses with equal force; they had agreed wait until they were married to be together again and Charles could not wait any longer. They pulled apart when they could no longer breathe and stared at each other a long moment, chests heaving. Elsie took Charles' hand and tugged him toward their bedroom.

"No interruptions, Charles," Elsie murmured as she tossed his suit coat to the bureau and began making quick work of his tie and shirt.

"Let me hear it again," Charles whispered into her ear as he unbuttoned her dress carefully yet quickly.

A bit confused Elsie question, "Hear what my love?"

"You know, "I Margaret Elspeth Hughes take thee…"

"Oh, I see…" she caught on. _I'll indulge him. I will indulge him tonight, tomorrow, and always._ "I, Margaret Elspeth _Carson_, take thee Charles Edward Carson," she playfully purred as she rid him of his shirt and vest, "to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer…Your turn, love."

Charles began to unfasten her corset, "I Charles Edward Carson, take thee Margaret Elspeth Carson," he paused and took in a breath as her corset fell away from her body and to the floor. He would never tire of seeing his wife's body even if it was through the thin shift that left little to the imagination, "to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health," and here he paused seriously. He looked at her earnestly. "You'll not ever keep anything like that from me again will you?" _I have always been on your side. I would have helped you you. I would have "steadied" you if you'd let me. I was in so much anguish. I thought that you would die. Please do not ever keep things from me._

"No, love. I promise. 'In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, til death us do part.' And that my love will be a long time off." she finished. He drew her close embracing her tightly. _I'm sorry Charles. I didn't want to hurt you. I never meant to hurt you. I could not bear to let you see me weak. _

"Now, let's not be so sad, husband. I have a surprise for you," Elsie cheered as she pulled away from Charles. "I going to freshen up a bit," she called over her shoulder as she made her way to the en suite bath. Charles mood lightened and he busied about in his coat pocket retrieving a small wrapped box. He placed it on the nightstand near his side of the bed. They had agreed the she would sleep on the left and he on the right. He hung his coat in the chiferrobe then removed his pants and hung them neatly beside his coat. Meticulously, Charles put away all of his clothes in the bureau drawers they had decided should be his and retrieved his pajamas. While in Ripon retrieving their marriage license, he took the opportunity to visit men's shop and purchase new ones. His old, striped ones, while serviceable, had become threadbare in places and were not fit and proper for a man's wedding night. He purchased two sets, one deep blue, he knew that Elsie admired him so in the color and the other in black, the shop manager told him that many women considered black an elegant choice when they shopped for their husbands. "Which to wear?" Charles muttered to himself. He looked at both for what seemed minutes trying to decide before finally choosing the black. Then another decision. Undershorts or no. Goodness knew that the fewest impediments to his intimacies with Elsie the better, but he did not wish to seem a cad either. _She did seem so eager to rid me of them before. _So, she had made his decision for him. He retreated across the hall to the second bath to brush his teeth and for a quick splash of cologne to freshen up and he was ready. A bit nervous for after all this was their wedding night.

Elsie finished with her preparations, letting her hair down and brushing through the wavy locks that were not so dark as they once were, but she knew that Charles didn't mind. She touched up her lips with a bit of color and slipped into a special nightgown that she had purchased at Mrs. Brown's shop on her last half day. Elsie purchased a peach satin and lace nightgown that was modest enough for her years, but not so modest that her husband would not be enamored of her in it. She looked over herself in the mirror and when satisfied with what she saw, she retrieved a small wrapped box from her case and opened the door to her room. Finding Charles already lounging on the bed she placed the box on her nightstand and climbed into bed next to him.

"If that is your present then thank you," Charles growled.

"Flatterer," Elsie swatted his chest. She reached for the small box. "This is my present to you. I hope that you like it." She handed him the small wrapped box and he tore at the paper like an enthusiastic young lad on Christmas morning. He opened the box to find a gold pocket watch. He looked at his wife in amazement.

"This must have cost you a fortune," he whispered. She shushed him. He clicked the watch open to reveal an inscription that he read aloud. "Always, E. April 12, 1925" Elsie notices a tear in Charles' eye as he held it closer to inspect the inscription and the workmanship. He then reached to his nightstand and retrieved a similarly small box for her.

"And what is this?" she asked knowing fully that he had something for her. She delicately wrestled open the edges of the paper and slipped her finger under the edge of the box lid. She extracted the most exquisite gold chain and locket. She looked up at Charles with a small smile. She opened the locket to find a picture of them that a photographer had snapped at the garden party before they learned that war had been declared. On the back of the locket she read the inscription, "Love, C. April 12, 1925". Charles noticed an unshed tear in her eye. "Seems we were thinking alike, hmm. Thank you my love." They leaned in for a tender kiss and Charles switched off the light.

Charles began to kiss Elsie's neck while running his fingers through her hair and she began working the buttons on his pajama top. He whispered in her ear, "With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship."

**We must leave them for their wedding night bliss mustn't we? One or two more chapters; some mighty changes are going to take place in my Downton world. Thanks for hanging in with this one this long.**


	10. Have you no mercy, woman?

The sunlight peeked through the small space between the curtains and the edge of the window gently waking Charles. It was the first time since his days on the stage with Grigg that he remembered not waking to the rap of a maid's knuckles against his door alerting him of the time. He rolled over reaching for Elsie only to find her place empty and the sheets pulled up tidily. _Always the housekeeper. Never off duty,_ Charles thought to himself happily. The Butler ran his hands through his hair as he planted his feet on the floor at the side of their bed. He arched his back and heard several clicking noises as instant relief coursed through his frame. He padded across the room and into the bath to splash cold water across his face. He reached for his dressing gown and then thought a moment. _This is my house and she is my wife. I do not need a dressing gown to walk around in my own home._ He threw the dressing gown across a nearby chair and proceeded to follow the sounds and smells he sensed coming from the kitchen.

"Good morning Mr. Carson," Elsie called cheerfully, as she plated the toast next to the bowl of eggs. "You are just in time for breakfast." Charles gazed in wonder at the woman before him. There stood Elsie Carson, dressed in her gown and an apron; her hair neatly braided and hanging over her left shoulder. A merry smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye; to him, she looked a picture of perfection. She had allowed him to sleep in while she had prepared breakfast for them: toast and jam, eggs, bacon, coffee. With wide eyes, he looked at the table spread in front of him.

"Did you not think that I could cook?" Elsie asked with a tone a bit harsher than she intended. _He thought that I could not cook. That man!_

"Ah…no…I..just didn't expect such a fine breakfast," he recovered. _I never really thought about whether she could cook or not. Oh, I am so glad that she can._

"Well," her tone softened, "even though I have changed and I am no longer than farm girl from Argyll, I still remember many things and how to cook is one of them. Also, knowing how to cook, though not up to Mrs. Patmore's standards mind you, is something every housekeeper and every woman needs to know. Come and sit sleepyhead, before it gets cold."

Charles tucked into his breakfast and hummed in contentment as he ate. Elsie's eyes crinkled at the edges as her mouth drew into a small smile. Her husband's contentment pleased her greatly. For so long she had loved him and had asked nothing in return. She exercised patience, lord knew he required it but, in the end he'd found his way to her. And now, he sat across from her, a scruffy mountain of a man with his hair tousled, pajama top unbuttoned, and humming while speedily eating a breakfast that she had cooked for him. In over twenty years of breakfasts with him, he had met her at the servants' hall table in his livery, starched, pressed, and fine. Yet, sitting at their table, in their house, on their first morning as man and wife, he sat not as Carson, the butler, but as Charles, her husband. For a man who disdained excitement at breakfast, he ate eagerly and then talked animatedly about the day ahead of them. Love had indeed made Charles Carson a new man.

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A fortnight passed since Charles and Elsie married and things returned to normal after the initial excitement of their nuptials. The Carsons ate breakfast with the rest of the servants as they had every morning save the morning after their marriage. Elsie stifled a chuckled every time she looked over to see Charles looking dejectedly into his bowl of porridge; he remembered the eggs, toast and jam, a strip of bacon that she prepared for him. Porridge was one thing that he would not miss with retirement. He looked forward to breakfast at home – their home.

Their days still consisted of sorting rotas, dinner service, making tea, serving tea, and making sure that maids and footmen did their jobs. Yet, now there were special moments during the day when Charles would steal away into Elsie's sitting room or she into his pantry for a quick kiss or perhaps a cuddle behind a closed door. Or, if they felt particularly brave, a clandestine meeting in the Blue Room for a more sensual kiss. There was a renewed vigor in both their steps with each one counting the days to retirement and having their time to themselves.

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The Carsons returned home at ten with Charles having shifted the responsibilities of locking up to Thomas who gleefully accepted the new responsibilities with fervor. Keen to be home, they couple hurried up to a bath and their nightclothes. Just because they were not at the Abbey, they did not wish to relinquish the traditions that they held dear over the years. While Elsie finished with her bath and slipped into her nightgown, Charles retrieved a plate with four chocolate biscuits and two small glasses of sherry. Biscuits and sherry or tea in bed on occasion had become a new luxury for them.

After their 'wee sherry' as Elsie called it, they settled down on the bed with stacks of applications and references for their soon to be vacant positions. The butler and housekeeper positions at Downton were certainly sought after and Charles and Elsie had no shortage of paperwork to sift through.

Elsie shuffled through her papers separating them into two stacks. One stack she discarded to her nightstand the other she placed in her lap. Charles had already made short work of his papers and reduced the number of candidates that he would interview to fill his position to five. Elsie found it much more difficult to make her decision.

"I need to eliminate at least five of these," she said as placed her reading glasses back upon her nose and began shuffling through her stack again. "I know that I want to speak to Anna first but I must interview others as well."

Charles reached to take a few of her papers and retrieved his reading glasses from his table. "Let me see. Well this woman has quite a bit of experience. Mrs. Baker. She comes from a smaller house but her references seem in order and I believe that Lady Grantham knows the family. You might keep her in mind," Charles offered.

"Perhaps," Elsie sighed. "This is much more difficult than I had imagined. I supposed that I assumed that Anna would inherit my keys when the time came." Elsie continued looking through the references and letters of women from houses both large and small. Charles removed his glasses and placed them on his lap while he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Their assessment ultimately was only recommendation. Lord and Lady Grantham would make the final decision.

"Are you going to recommend Thomas?" Elsie questioned. The thought of her Anna struggling daily with Thomas as a butler worried her to no end. Elsie knew Anna had great strength, but Anna did not have age as an advantage as she, herself had when it came to dealing with Thomas and Thomas ranked higher than Mr. Bates.

Charles sighed deeply. He could not imagine giving his pantry and his wine cellar over to the likes of Thomas. "I certainly do not wish to. He is capable of the job but, there is more to it than being capable."

Elsie patted Charles outstretched leg and smiled. "Honor and integrity. Things that I am afraid Thomas lacks." Charles grumbled in agreement. "So what do you plan on doing?"

"I am not sure. I would like to interview some other candidates but His Lordship will certainly wonder why I don't recommend Thomas. Her ladyship is blind to Thomas'….penchant for causing trouble."

Elsie thought on Charles comment for a moment. "Perhaps, Mr. Bates could move to the position of House Steward and Anna to Housekeeper. That way, he would be in charge of the house, the servants and the bookkeeping. Anna would have less work and if God blessed them with a babe then she would be in a better position with a lighter workload than I." Elsie tucked in a bit closer to Charles as she continued. "She once mentioned that one day they would like to leave service and run a shop or hotel and with the experience Mr. Bates might gain from running a large house, he'd be well set to own a small hotel." Elsie's eyes twinkled and Charles lips managed a crooked smile; the woman he married was a sharp one.

"And with Mr. Bates as house steward, Thomas would really only be required to tend the wine, the plate, table service, the footmen and announce guests," Charles finished.

"He'd be without any _real_ power," Elsie concluded. "Certainly not the type of power that you enjoy. Mr. Bates could then protect Anna and keep Thomas in line." Pleased with herself, Elsie smiled smugly.

"It has been a long day," he said as he took the papers from Elsie's hands and placed them on his table. "Come here," he said as he pulled Elsie closer kissing her soundly on the lips. "Do you know one of the things that most attracted me to you?" Elsie answered with a barely audible "Hmm" as she ran a hand through Charles' hair. "That you are smarter than I." He felt Elsie's body shake in laughter against him. She laughed long and hard and tears streamed out of her eyes. Charles Carson, proud Englishman if ever there was one, had admitted that she was smarter than he.

"Well, miracles never cease," she cried. "The next time that we argue, I will remind you of this moment." Charles rolled over onto his back taking her with him until she was atop him. She began to tickle Charles, he laughed like a lad, and the errant, unruly curl sprung down along his forehead. Elsie was relentless in her teasing and she had complete control over her bear of a husband.

"Have you no mercy, woman?" Charles laughed through tears of hysterical bliss. Then when she finally took some mercy on him, he gently took control of her, pulling her to him for a long, sensual kiss. When their lips finally parted, they gazed at each other for a long moment and Charles saw the look in his wife's eye that silently communicated all of her needs and desires. He rolled them over until Elsie was on her back and he was over her. He leaned down to her, kissing her neck, the sensitive spot behind her ear, her shoulder. He began unfastening the buttons of her nightgown and then he heard Elsie gasp in pain.

"What is it, love?" he asked with concern.

"I…I don't know. Something poked my stomach," she answered confused. Charles raised an eyebrow. "Not that," she answered sharply. Charles lifted himself up and looked at his wife's belly. "Well?" she asked.

Charles held up both hands, each holding one-half of his reading glasses. Elsie bit her bottom lip to stifle a laugh. "I forgot to put them on my table when I took them off," Charles replied sheepishly.


	11. Let's Go Home, Love

**Thank you all for reading along this far and reviewing. It has meant a lot to me. Thanks to chelsie fan for discussing the possible scenarios in replacing our Butler and Housekeeper. This will be mostly from Elsie's perspective. We tend to focus on Charles when it comes to their retirement but I thought Elsie's perspective might be important to look at.**

Charles and Elsie spent the next few weeks interviewing candidates for the position of butler and housekeeper. Elsie only had one applicant in mind yet, she politely interviewed each candidate carefully, reviewing the credentials and references of each. She asked each woman of their experience and found many with the requisite number of years as either a head housemaid or housekeeper in a smaller house. Some of the women were younger than Anna and one was a year older than herself. One interview was particularly difficult. An older woman, Mary Brown, a widow from Manchester, exasperated Elsie from the beginning of her interview until she left the house.

It had taken everything in Elsie's power to withhold her exasperation with Mrs. Brown, a middle-aged woman with excellent references from a country house just a fraction smaller than Downton. As Elsie showed her to the stores and cupboards and explained Downton's system (her system) of doing things, Mrs. Brown immediately began to criticize saying, "Well, if I am housekeeper, we certainly will not do them that way." She also demanded a week off every year to visit her children who lived in Farnsworth. Elsie felt rage building with every syllable the woman spoke and as she escorted her to the door to leave, it took everything in her not to slam the door behind the woman. As the weeks of interviews wore on, Elsie found every possible excuse not to recommend any of the outside applicants to Her Ladyship.

Charles tried his best to find an outside applicant to recommend to His Lordship but found fault with most of them. They either were too young, too old, lacked an adequate knowledge of wine, or found wanting in their personal grooming – something Elsie said no one else noticed. Only one candidate, a man called Edwin Davies, came closest to fitting the bill. He was forty-two and had been a butler for a family at grand estate Lancashire that had fallen on hard times. Davies was well appointed, well-versed in the standards of a great country house, had a thorough knowledge of wine and ideas on improving the wine inventory at Downton, yet Charles was unsure if Lady Grantham would bypass Thomas for an outsider. Though he was loathe to admit it, Thomas knew the house, the procedures and did present himself impeccably. Charles had trained him well; too well. It was decided. Elsie would recommend Anna as Housekeeper, while Charles would recommend Mr. Bates as House Steward and Mr. Barrow as Butler with Davies as an alternative option.

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Charles was seated in his office looking over wine orders when Thomas unceremoniously and uninvited strode into the room. Charles looked up with irritation at the young under-butler and narrowing his eyes and setting his jaw asked Thomas what he could do for him.

"I am here to offer my resignation, Mr. Carson," Thomas responded with an air of smugness.

"You what?" Charles questioned loudly. Charles exclamation roused his wife's attention from her sitting room. Fearing some imminent disaster, she rushed to his doorway.

"I'm resigning. I have been offered the position of butler at a household in London and I have accepted," Thomas replied haughtily. "I will not be under a house steward there and it is in _London_, so I accepted. I am due in a few days." _A full butler in my own right. And finally rid of the Bateses. _

Charles tried with great difficulty to suppress his complete and utter joy at the revelation. He glanced at his wife in the doorway who could not suppress her relief at Thomas' leaving the Abbey as she swept forward and extended her best wishes to young man. "Well, Mr. Barrow, let me be the first to congratulate you on your new position. I'm sure that you will be very happy in London." Thomas accepted the congratulations of the Carsons and Charles immediately released him from his duties to arrange for his departure. Charles made a quick telephone call to Mr. Davies and all was set. Downton might at last see some peace, at least downstairs, Charles hoped.

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Elsie motioned for Anna to close the door and take a seat in front of her. The day had come for Anna to assume the post of Housekeeper and though Elsie was thrilled to have her girl inherit it from her, she maintained the emotional reserve that characterized the dealings that she maintained with all her girls. Elsie poured the tea and for a while, they nattered on about generic personal matters. Charles was really becoming quite the gardener, Elsie offered. He had mapped out the lay of the land and knew just where every plant should go. Anna told of John's excitement of becoming house steward and their hopes of one day having a little one running about. As they spoke, Elsie noticed that much of Anna's spark had returned; that she was happier than she had been in a long while. The mess with Green had been put behind them as much as it could be. The police had investigated the man's murder and found that he owed money to a card sharp in London and when he failed to pay, the man had Green pushed into the street to his death. Anna's mind has eased considerably when the investigation concluded. She had not doubted John with Vera's death but with Green's murder questions nagged at her. Though she had only admitted it that night and only to Elsie, she knew it to be possible that John might avenge her honor.

Their conversation then turned to matters of the house. Elsie reassured Anna that she was more than qualified for the job at hand. Elsie knew that she had trained Anna well. Anna was older than she when she became housekeeper and Anna proved a keen mind. When all the matters of the house where discussed for the final time, Elsie turned to her desk. It was empty of all her personal effects and all that remained were the ledgers, a book or two that Elsie knew Anna enjoyed, keys, and a small package tucked into a corner.

Elsie retrieved the delicately wrapped package and a letter from her desk and gently handed them to Anna. "I have something for you," she said quietly. Anna took the package and admired the pretty paper and she began to open the letter when the housekeeper stopped her. "The letter is for another day, Anna. For a day when you need it. You'll know when." Anna nodded, placing the letter on her lap. She continued with opening the package and Elsie looked on with pride as Anna lifted the silver chatelaine from the box and fingered the intricacies of the work. It had no keys or scissors hanging from its delicate chains. They were for Anna to fill. On her half days or the rare occasions that she had been ill or taken a trip, Elsie had entrusted Anna with her keys, but now they were to be Anna's and hers alone. Other than her wedding ring, the chatelaine would become Anna's most prized piece of jewelry she would tell in later years.

"This must have been very expensive. I couldn't possibly…"

"You can and you will,' Elsie pressed firmly. "I never had the luxury to spoil a daught…." Elsie stopped short as tears began to sting her eyes and she worried her bottom lip. She looked down into her lap afraid to allow Anna to see the emotions she could never feel fully free to put into words. She felt so free in expressing her emotions with Charles but her position forced her to keep a professional distance with her girls. She had let the veil drop from time to time with Anna, during John's imprisonment and during the awful time after her ordeal with Mr. Green. Even those times, she still guarded herself. But in the quiet of her room, she had hadn't slept that night instead kneeling in prayer and wishing that she could hold Anna, soothe her and tell her that it was all right to cry.

Anna reached her hand to lift one of Elsie's and place it between her own. Elsie continued to look down into her lap, willing the tears that pooled in her eyes not to spill down her cheeks. "I understand," Anna whispered.

Elsie looked up and her tear-filled eyes met Anna's bright, loving ones. "I hope that you do," she replied giving Anna's hand gentle squeeze. They sat for a long moment as Elsie collected herself. She was not accustomed to feeling so vulnerable in front of anyone except Charles but she knew that Anna did understand. A bond had been forged between the two women when Anna was a young maid. Elsie appreciated the young woman's ability work hard, her impeccable manners, her self-control, and ability to overcome the worst of situations. The girl had been tested, Lord knew, but she was a strong one Elsie told Charles time and again. She admired the younger woman. She had no daughter of her own and Anna was the closest she would ever come.

Charles tapped at the door and opened it without being asked, as was his custom. Until Elsie left the room, it was still her sitting room he reasoned. He looked fondly upon the two women before him. His wife, who had given her life to service and to Anna who had been fortunate enough to find a man that she loved and who loved her and who weren't bound by the rigidity of the rules as he and Elsie had been.

"So, you're ready then, Mr. Carson?" Elsie inquired.

"I've handed everything over to Mr. Davies. It seems that he has everything under control. So, I am ready if you are?" Charles spoke smoothly. Elsie was astonished at the ease with which Charles was making the transition from working to retirement. Charles though had committed himself to her and the house would be his past.

"I am. We need to allow Mrs. Bates to get about her duties," Elsie attempted a nervous laugh. _This is much more difficult than I thought._ "The new housekeeper can't be seen slacking you know." No matter how hard Elsie tried, Charles could see the tension in her face, in her eyes. He knew that her emotions hung by the thinnest of threads. He had always thought that it would be the hardest for him to leave.

Elsie took one long last look around the sitting room that she had spent so much of her life in. _I don't know why I'm looking or what I expect to find. It's Anna's now. All of it. She's ready. _Memories flooded back to her of Gwen and Anna when they were younger, laughing and asking if they could have her permission to retreat to the village for the fair and then to Ethel and the despair she faced with little Charlie. Of the good times with Mrs. Patmore, laughing about Mr. Tufton over a cup of tea. And then there were the bad…..no, she willed those times out of her mind, for now. Elsie turned to look at Charles and remembered the times they had spent in this room: a courtship almost. _I'm ready. It's time to make new memories._

Elsie reached to give Anna tight hug. She had always viewed her work as simply a job. Charles felt a part of the family and she could never really understand it, but now upon leaving her post, she understood some of what he felt and she hugged Anna snugly. She patted Anna's back in a motherly fashion and mentioned a few words of encouragement and just as they began to part, Anna kissed her cheek and whispered, "Mrs. Carson, just so that _you_ understand, I love you too." Elsie pulled away from Anna and brushed her hand across the young housekeeper's cheek. Each had left so much unspoken over the years but each woman knew there was a special place in the other's heart for her.

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"Mrs. Carson," Miss Baxter offered, "I would like to thank you for all that you have done."

"I've done nothing," Elsie reassured the lady's maid. "I only listened."

The revelation that Thomas was Miss Baxter's son had prompted a bit of a scandal downstairs in the days before Thomas left. Mr. Molesley had become increasingly concerned with Thomas' menacing behavior toward Miss Baxter and though she could not speak to him about it, he encouraged her to turn to Mrs. Carson. One evening Miss Baxter sat in Elsie's sitting room and poured her heart out to the housekeeper. How a previous employer dismissed her as she had been found in a compromising position with one of the sons and she found herself pregnant. How she gave birth to Thomas just before she turned sixteen and had sent him to live with her older sister to rear. How she had rebuilt her life in service at a smaller house with a kind mistress who didn't mind her past. How when the woman died, Thomas recommended her as a replacement for Miss O'Brien and then pressed her for information on things going on in the house or threatened to expose her secret.

Elsie encouraged Miss Baxter to be honest with Mr. Molesley and true to his character, he forgave her. When Thomas learned that he no longer held power over his mother and subsequently learned of Mr. Bates position of house steward, he sought employment elsewhere. Miss Baxter and Mr. Molesley then felt able to pursue a more open romantic attachment for which Miss Baxter thanked Elsie.

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"Would you like me to drive you home?" Tom inquired brightly.

"Mr. Branson," Elsie began before Tom asked her to use his given name now that she was no longer an employee of the family. "Tom, I'd like to leave the way that I came, on my own two feet. Thank you all the same." After Tom made promises to bring Sybbie by for visits, Charles and Elsie turned to make their goodbyes to the staff that remained – Mrs. Patmore and Daisy.

"Goodbye, Daisy. Please come visit us when you can," Charles offered. "We are no more than ten minutes walk." Daisy made her promise, reached her arms around Charles, and hugged him mightily. Charles coughed in embarrassment but managed to pat Daisy's shoulder in return.

"We're ten minutes away, Beryl," Elsie consoled the cook. "On your half days you can stop by for tea or we can walk into the village. I will see you at church on Sundays."

"You can stop by for luncheon," Charles interjected. "Elsie is a marvelous cook." Elsie rolled her eyes. Charles had overstepped the mark with the cook. In his praise of his wife, he inadvertently offended the one thing that meant the most to Beryl Patmore – her cooking.

Beryl sniffed a bit, her expression hardening just a fraction. She defensively crossed her arms. "She is, is she? Well, you don't look like you suffered all these years eating my cooking?!" Elsie placed a hand on the cook's arm.

"Beryl, you know that I cannot cook even half as well as you and that a husband has to flatter his wife to stay in good stead with her," Elsie cooed soothingly. With that, the cook's ire diminished but Elsie cut a sharp eye toward Charles who had the graciousness to drop his head and say nothing further.

With their goodbyes said, the Carsons began their walk home. The personal contents of their offices had been moved to their cottage steadily throughout the week so that all they carried with them now were memories. After all, Charles had been the one to say that the business of life was the acquisition of memories and as they walked, memories flooded each of their minds. Charles recalled when the Dowager and Mrs. Crawley first met and a story of when Lady Mary was a little girl. Elsie spoke of Sybil's marriage to Mr. Branson and the numerous rows she and Mrs. Patmore had over the store cupboard key.

Just as they rounded the corner and the house was no longer visible, Charles heard Elsie take in a deep gasp of air and a strangled cry escaped her as she stopped. She drew a gloved hand up to her mouth in an attempt to contain her emotions. Charles drew her into his embrace rubbed his hand along her back. "Ssh, Elsie. What's the matter?" She buried her head into his chest as she heaved heavy breaths and tears flowed freely from her eyes wetting his shirt. She raised her hands to circle his neck as if she held on for dear life. Charles hated to see her upset and even more to see her crying. He felt helpless to comfort her, struggling to find the words. "Love, we will see them all the time. The Bates' cottage is a short walk from ours and you will see Beryl whenever you like. Is that why you are sad?" Elsie didn't utter a word but he felt her shake her head against his chin. "Well then, what is it? Is it that you will miss being housekeeper?"

Elsie pulled away from him just enough to look into his eyes; the hazel eyes that had held her for so long even when his arms could not. "It's silly I suppose," she began through a broken voice "but while I was housekeeper people entrusted me with things that I could not share with anyone not even you, though I wanted to."

"They trusted you. You are loved and admired. You should take comfort in that. But it was unfair for one person to carry everyone else's burdens," Charles sympathized as he wiped a tear from her cheek.

"Thank you for that. I suppose I just needed a good cry," Elsie laughed at herself. "We're leaving the house for good and I'm leaving those burdens behind." Charles leaned down and kissed away the remaining tears from her cheeks before kissing her sweetly on the lips.

"Elsie, let's go home, love."

**I know I said that this would be it. However, this may not be the end. There may be some epilogues or something. I have ideas and know how their story ends, so we'll just have to see. Thanks for sticking with me this long.**


	12. Legacy

**Warning: Major Character Death and time jump**

June 1929

Elsie stood in the doorway of the study that she and Charles shared. It held a small collection of books, a cherry desk, the chair from Charles office at the Abbey and a settee for Elsie to recline and snuggle up with a good book. The walls held shelves with family pictures and knick-knacks. The bookcases held small collections on history, a volume or two on religion, several well worn, Dickens novels, some Austen tomes, a smattering of gardening books and other miscellany. Not a large collection, Charles often commented, but one they could be proud of. Elsie made sure that the study was a refuge for Charles, a place that he could feel was his own. Even though they relished every moment they spent together, she instinctively knew that he needed time to himself to steal away for a few moments to busy himself with books or the newspaper or to plan the next stage of the garden. She often found him with the bookshelves wiped clean, books scattered in the floor at his feet, re-cataloguing them, as he replaced them in new spots. She never asked him why he did this. She already knew. He needed something to sort; to feel busy, needed. His book collection had replaced the Abbey's wine cellar. With each new volume they added, Charles carefully inscribed the title, author, date and place of purchase, and the cost into a ledger that he kept in a desk drawer. On this day, Charles had his head buried in a gardening book, plotting out which new plants to add along a path he was imagining.

"I think that I'll walk down to the village later to buy some seeds for the plantings along the new garden path. Would you like to accompany me?" He asked as he scribbled down something onto a list.

"She's gone," Elsie spoke quietly. There was no way for her to say it, but just to say it straight out. She looked at Charles though he never looked up from list. They both knew that this day was coming and coming soon, he'd had time to prepare for it, but she knew he dreaded it all the same.

"Mmm. When?" was all he managed.

Elsie crossed the room to take a spot on the settee, folding her hands in her lap. "About ten minutes ago. Anna said that her passing was peaceful. The family was with her." Charles only nodded his head. "I told Anna that we would be up to the house in a bit. She asked if Jack could stay with us for a few days since she would be busy planning the goings on with the guests and activities surrounding the funeral. I told her it would be fine." Again, Charles nodded. Elsie made to get up and drew to Charles side. She cradled his head to her breast and placed a kiss into his hair, which had begun to turn more silver and white. "I'll give you some time. I'll be around when you're ready."

Sometime later Charles passed through the kitchen and out the backdoor into the garden. Elsie finished washing and drying the breakfast dishes as she watched Charles through the kitchen window. She noticed his shoulders slightly slumped and he kept running a hand through his hair. He found a bench on which to sit and placing his elbows on his knees, he cradled his head in his hands. Elsie noticed that his body began to shake. She'd only seen Charles in tears a few times. When William died and when the news of Matthew's shocking death came. She'd only seen him cry once and that was when Lady Sybil passed so tragically and so young. But this, this was weeping. Elsie wanted to rush to him, to embrace him, to hold and comfort him. But she knew her husband, he needed just a moment to release his deepest grief and then to pull himself together. She continued to watch and after a moment, he pulled himself up. Taking his handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his eyes and Elsie knew this was her cue to join him.

"I'm so sorry Charles. I know how much you cared for her," Elsie soothed as she sat beside him and smoothed his disheveled hair before kissing his cheek affectionately.

Charles wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in close. "Thank you. I know that you didn't care for her much." Elsie began to protest but Charles put a hand up gently to stop her. "It's all right, love. I think that sometimes, two strong women are often at odds. She admired you, you know. She would never tell you of course, but she often told me that she was amazed at how you ran such a tight ship. How you could plan such extravagant events on a moment's notice."

"That was very kind of her. I suppose under all that steeliness there was a kind heart," Elsie conceded.

"I've heard that said of another woman I love," Charles mustered a small laugh as he pulled Elsie a little tighter and pressed a kiss into her hair. Elsie had to admit, even if to herself, that might be something that she and the Dowager shared in common – a backbone of steel but a kind heart and fierce loyalty to those they loved and cared about.

"Shall we make our way up to the house? Are you ready?" Elsie asked cautiously.

"I am," Charles answered.

CeCeCeCe

"Granda Charles," Jack squealed in delight upon seeing Charles round the corner into the servants' corridor. Little Jack Bates, a three-year old bundle of bouncing boy and the image of his father, with a shock of dark hair and big brown eyes, ran up to Charles clutching his legs. Charles reached down picking the boy up and bringing him into his arms.

"How's my boy?" Charles asked enthusiastically. His mood had brightened after seeing the boy. Charles had taken to the role of surrogate grandfather with full fervor. He had worried upon leaving the Abbey that he might no longer be useful but then Jack came along and Charles' fears eased into oblivion.

"I'm fine, but everyone is very sad, Granda Charles," the little boy answered.

"Well, we'll have a little chat about that later. Do you have your bag packed?"

"Yes, it is in Da's office. Let's go get it!"

"Just a minute young man," came a mock stern voice from behind them. "Haven't you a kiss for me?" Charles looked at Jack indicating that they had best turn round. When they turned, they found a smiling Elsie Carson and Jack immediately reached for giving her the biggest kiss he could muster and an apology.

"Sorry Granny Elsie, I didn't see you," Jack added with a pout for extra emphasis. Already a charmer that one, Elsie thought to herself.

"I know. It's all right. You and Granda fetch your satchel and I'll have a talk with Mummy." Elsie sent her men on their way and then turned to knock on the door of Anna's sitting room. She had finally grown accustomed to the idea that the sitting room was indeed Anna's and she was delighted with the way Anna had taken to the role of Housekeeper. Elsie knew that Anna would flourish and when she and John had been able to put the troubles of the past to rest as much as they could, they would never completely be at bay, she knew that, little Jack came along. Anna seemed better than she had in years and Elsie's heart soared. That she and Charles had become surrogate grandparents to Jack had enriched their lives more than she could have imagined.

Two knocks at the door and Anna swiveled around and stood beckoning Elsie to enter. The women embraced each other with all the affection and devotion of mother and daughter and Anna called out for one of the maids to fetch some tea for them. Elsie took a seat and Anna pulled a chair in front of her. Anna smiled but sighed deeply.

"I take it they are back from the Dower House?" Elsie opened.

"They are and there are about 40 guests expected in," Anna began to explain. "The funeral will be on Friday so many of them will be staying through the weekend."

"That will be quite a job. But I dare say that you are up to it," Elsie boosted the younger woman's confidence. "Thank you for letting Jack stay with us for a while. Charles was devastated at the news and I think it will do him some good to remember that life is a circle. One grows old and passes on while another grows strong and finds his place. One leaves this world to make a place for a new life."

Anna smiled to herself. "Funny you should say that. I haven't even told John yet, so you mustn't say a word. But we are expecting." Elsie broke out into the biggest smile, clasped Anna's hands into her own, and pressed a kiss onto them. Another bairn! Maybe a little girl for Anna, secretly Elsie hoped a little girl that she could spoil.

The two women spent the next half hour talking about babies and Jack and domestic things. Then Anna asked for Elsie's input on the ideas that she had for the plans for the few days surrounding the funeral. Elsie looked over everything and reassured Anna that everything looked in order. After Elsie put Anna's mind at ease, she made her way to the kitchen to find Mrs. Patmore in her usual state of agitated bliss.

"Heaven's to Betsy, Elsie Carson, just don't stand there in the way, pitch in!" exclaimed the cook as she flitted about the kitchen tasting dishes and garnishing them quickly.

"You must have forgotten. I am retired," Elsie answered emphatically. Before she knew it, Mrs. Patmore handed off her duties to Daisy and ushered her out into the servants' hall.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," Beryl hugged her friend. "I miss you."

"We see each other all the time," Elsie chided her.

"I mean _here,_" Beryl insisted. "I'm the only old war horse left. After this funeral business is finished I may just pack it in." Elsie couldn't believe her ears. Was Beryl Patmore actually speaking of retirement? The woman swore that she would die in harness. She never conceived of giving her kitchen away until the grim reaper carried her from it.

"You're serious? You'd actually retire?" Elsie questioned.

"Aye. I'm ready. I've had my eye on a small cottage not far from yours and the church needs a cook to help with the mission work for the poor, so I'd stay busy but on my own schedule." The two women talked of Beryl's retirement, how they could fix up a cottage to her liking, and the many activities that they could do together. They spoke of the Dowager's death and how effected everyone had been. Mrs. Patmore recounted how Mrs. Clarkson had sat at the Dowager's bedside round the clock for the last week, nursing her, wiping her brow, changing her gown, cleaning her. How she held a moist cloth to her mouth when she could no longer eat or drink for herself and holding her hand as she took her last breath. Mrs. Clarkson had told of when the Dowager died how a lone tear rolled down her right cheek. Elsie was more touched by these things than she thought she had a right to be. After all, Violet Crawley was in the end, a just a woman, with a heart and feelings, like me, she thought.

CeCeCeCe

Elsie offered her assistance to little Jack in helping him sort to his clothes and to get dressed for the funeral, but Jack politely refused, instead saying that he preferred "Granda Charles help". Elsie smiled and sent him on his way to Granda as she finished her own preparations at her dressing table. Jack found Charles in the master bath shaving. He tugged on Charles' pant leg. Charles knew exactly what young Jack wanted. He picked Jack up and stood him on the toilet lid. Elsie quietly tiptoed to the bathroom to eavesdrop on the pair.

"Now, you must never touch a razor until your Da tells you that you are old enough, do you understand me?" Charles asked gruffly. Jack responded with a very serious "Yes sir" and a nod. "Well, then let's get you lathered up." Charles swirled his bristle brush into his shaving mug until it was sufficiently covered with shaving soap and then lathered Jack's small face until he looked like Santa Clause. Elsie couldn't help but bite back a smile. She could imagine Charles carrying out this ritual with a dark haired, hazel-eyed son of their own. She imagined the father that he would have been. She envisioned him teaching a son to play cricket or cuddling a daughter and reading fairy tales to her until she fell asleep. She learned to push regret out of her mind. To dwell upon it did no good and served no purpose. They could dote upon each other and upon Jack and the wee one that was on his or her way. She watched as Charles turned the straight razor to the blunt side and stroke down Jack's tiny face. "You always clean the blade in between strokes," Charles told him as he wiped the razor on the cloth that hung over his shoulder. Once Charles completed his task, he wiped the boy's face and lifted him to look into the mirror. Jack wiped a hand over his face as he had seen his father and his Granda do to inspect the closeness of a shave. "Does it meet with your approval?" Charles inquired seriously. Jack answered with a big smile and hug. Charles put him down and swatted him on the behind. "Let me finish up and I'll help you with your suit. Off you go," Charles chuckled. Jack raced past Elsie to his room to retrieve his clothes.

Elsie moved into the bath and placed her arms around her husband from behind, her chest pressed into his back. "That boy loves you and so do I, Charles Carson," she purred. Seeing Charles soft side flooded her with such strong emotions of love and desire for her husband. Charles turned to her and reached down to kiss her.

"We could have had a house full of lads and lasses if I hadn't been so foolish, so blind," he murmured against her lips.

"What's brought this on again? We've talked about this and agreed not to speak of it anymore," she said as she nipped at his bottom lip.

"I…I…well, with the Dowager's death, I realize that even if we live a long time, life is really a vapor, as the good book says, and I think of the time we can't get back," Charles voice began to falter.

Elsie pressed into him and kissed him with all the passion and desire that she had ever felt for him. Her hands ran over his chest and she felt the heat radiating from him as she ran her hands around his neck and through his hair. Charles lips found their way to her neck and Elsie's breath hitched in response to the sensations that Charles' nipping at that special spot elicited. "Charles," Elsie panted "don't ever let me hear you speak of regrets again. I'll not hear of it. The time I have had with you even before we married has been priceless." With those words, Charles again found his way to his wife's lips and covered them with his own. He loved her. She had always steadied him, even before she offered to that day at the seaside. He wondered what he had done to deserve her.

"Granny, let Granda go! He promised to help me with my suit," Jack protested as he bounced back into the room. Charles and Elsie looked at each other with a smile and chuckle. There was a first time for everything. They'd been caught out by a three year old.

CeCeCeCe

On the walk to the church, Charles and Jack talked about how "men" behaved in church services and that it was a "man's" responsibility to be the example for everyone else. Charles told him that he could sit with his parents if he wished but that he would return to the house with him and Elsie after the service. Jack promised to be on his best behavior and when they made their way into the church, Jack wished to stay with his surrogate grandparents and sat between them very quietly throughout the service. The funeral for the Dowager was a grand affair with numerous scripture readings and hymns. A few people spoke, Lady Mary, Dr. Clarkson, Lord Grantham, and a few others. The service lasted over an hour and Charles and Elsie praised their boy for his behavior. Charles promised him a candy stick from the jar on his desk and Elsie promised an extra bedtime story. As the casket was carried from the church to the graveyard, the processional followed and the Carsons stood near the servants as the vicar read additional passages and invoked a final prayer. As people began making their ways to their motors and walking to their destinations, Lady Mary approached Charles and Elsie.

"Carson, Mrs. Carson, I am glad to see you," Mary offered as she extended her hand.

"Lady Mary," Charles beamed, "please accept our sympathies. The Dowager was quite a woman. She will be missed." Charles saw tears fill the young woman's eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

"Mr. Napier, how are you?" Elsie inquired.

"Well, Mrs. Carson. Thank you," Evelyn remarked.

"Papa, asked me to tell you to please come to the house. Mr. Johnstone is reading the will after luncheon and he asked for you both to be present," Mary said smiling at her former butler and housekeeper. Charles and Elsie looked at one another with astonishment. Mary claimed no knowledge of why they were needed other than Lord Grantham requested their presence at the reading.

After luncheon, all of the invited parties gathered in the dining room and Mr. Johnstone, the Dowager's attorney, began to laborious task of reading her will. He shuffled through pages of legal details and wherefores, howevers, and the like before he began to mention bequests. There were the usual gifts of money and jewels to Lady Rosamund, Lady Mary and Lady Edith, a provision for Sybbie Branson, Master George, Olivia Gregson, and all future grandchildren. Lady Cora was included with a gift of a tiara and some miscellaneous family heirlooms. The Dowager left each of her servants one hundred pounds and the Village Hospital ten thousand pounds. There were bequests to various charities and to the village church. To Mrs. Clarkson, she bequeathed a nutcracker, a paper knife, and deck of playing cards along with a private note of appreciation and friendship that Isobel treasured the rest of her life. Charles and Elsie began why they were invited to listen to a laundry list of the Dowager's bequests and then Mr. Johnstone read the final bequests.

"To Charles and Elsie Carson, I hereby bequeath the sum of 2500 pounds for their years of impeccable service and devotion to the Crawley family." Charles and Elsie's mouths dropped open as they stared at one another. That sum was the equivalent of twenty-two years of combined service. "Furthermore," Mr. Johnstone continued as he handed Elsie a folded collection of papers, "I gift and bequeath to them the cottage they presently occupy and ten acres surrounding."

Elsie opened the papers to find a bill of sale from Lord Grantham to the Dowager for the cottage and the acreage and the deed. She had purchased the property for them. "Charles, this property includes the small lake. But how did she know?" Tears pricked Elsie's eyelids and she brought a hand to her mouth to keep from crying aloud.

"Mrs. Carson, Mama knew a great many things," His Lordship responded. "She wanted you and Carson to have a piece of Downton for yourselves so that no matter what might come, you are secure. The lake? Well, I think a little bird may have told her how much you loved to visit the lake," he finished with a wink toward Mary.

"I'm touched. I truly am," Elsie replied with a contrite voice. She mouthed a silent _Thank you_ to Lady Mary. Maybe Charles was right about that girl after all.

CeCeCeCe

Later that night Jack received his promised candy stick and after his bath, Charles and Elsie tucked him into bed and read his favorite bedtime story, The Story of the Three Bears. Charles, of course, played Great, Huge Bear with a deep and booming voice, while Elsie played Middle-Sized Bear, with a lilting Scottish voice, and Jack had memorized his part as Little, Small, Wee Bear. Before the story could be finished, Jack nodded off. Charles closed the book and Elsie brushed the lad's hair from his forehead. They stealthily made their way from his room, closing the door gently behind them. Charles replaced the book on the appropriate shelf while Elsie made her way into their bedroom.

After they had changed into their bedclothes and snuggled into bed, Charles outstretched his arm and Elsie moved into her customary position cradling her head into his shoulder. She smoothed a hand over his chest and began to unfasten a few buttons of his shirt so that she might felt his bare skin against her own. "It's been an eventful day," she almost whispered.

"It has indeed," he answered. "We have a legacy now."

"She made it possible for us to actually leave something tangible, material behind for those we love. For that, I am grateful….and for the security she's given us but we had a legacy before," Elsie reminded him. Elsie began to unfasten more buttons on her husband's shirt and spread it further open exposing his broad and still firm chest. She began to trace lines across his chest and stomach and place kisses along his jaw and neck. She leaned closer to his ear and began to nip at his earlobe ever so skillfully. Upon hearing Charles groan in pleasure, she leaned into his ear and seductively whispered, "Charles, did you bolt the door?" With his affirmation, Charles turned to her and even with only moonlight filtering into their room, he could see the desire in his wife's eyes and feel it in her touch.

**TBC…..**

**The Story of the Three Bears is the English Version published by G. Putman's collected by Joseph Jacobs. In regards to the pay scale for Butlers and Housekeepers: from various sources I have found the general consensus to be 60 pounds per year for butlers with 5-10 pounds less for housekeepers.**


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